Comme nous chanceux sommes!

I got righteously indignant about the state of modern feminism the other day after reading all the Betty Friedan obits, but then I had a nice bowl of strawberry ice cream and forgot all about it. I think I was also just mad because I dropped my bagel earlier. Lately, many of my problems relate to actually being hungry.

Oh yeah, so fighting about different brands of feminism: what an awesome bougie problem to have! More money, more problems indeed. Would you like to hear about my problem with impossible math and the condo board’s sub-flooring requirements? I bet you would. The System (this is like The Man) still sucks, in so many possible ways. But I have the great luxury of being able to put off thinking about fixing it until after my nap. I am grateful.

But before my nap, I will inform you that we picked a name for the parasite. However, it contains an “ar” sound. Let’s say it’s Nomar. Now try saying this like a Masshole. Yes. You see the problem. I beat Mr. H into correct R sound pronunciation with a combo of actual beatings and M&M treats, but then I remembered he also has a large family. A family who can talk. Nomah.

Finally, I owe a mess of people a mess of email. If you are one of them, that’s because all my downloaded email is still on another computer. I can’t find the doohicky (I really wanted to say “dongle,” but that wouldn’t be entirely accurate) that connects this computer to a monitor. Life is hard, but I did get a free peppermint hot chocolate from Starbucks. For my patience, which I guess can be confused with standing around not paying attention.

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