Mainly bent, with moments of radiant joy

Forgive me, for I ate up all the oranges in the crisper drawer. I think you were saving them. Oh, no, wait, you are too lazy to peel an orange on your own. You wait for me to peel them and feed you slices. Damn. That’s OK. I like to peel them animal style, with my bare paws. My pappy, he used to use a paring knife, and he could take the peel off all in one long curl. Who am I talking to? Well, I don’t know either. This orange is totally not as good as all the oranges I had last week. How am I supposed to know if I’ll ever have the best orange in the world? Maybe I should be living somewhere warmer. Today is an ordeal, and you should see how filthy a keyboard can get.

In other news, I am at a content loss. I heard a German cat got the bird flu. Do you think I can make a truly delicious Marsala sauce without a shallot? Is it a bad sign that my mortgage company’s SSL certificate seems to have expired, but they will show my information anyway? The Ethicist replies: No, it is a bad idea in the first place to even have a mortgage. Pay cash next time.

2 responses to “Mainly bent, with moments of radiant joy”

  1. Word to the wise: Raspberry oranges taste like normal oranges, but are much more acidic. Blood oranges still rock.
    That is all. Word to your momma.

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