Thank GOODNESS there’s no P.M class on Sundays. I’m not sure how I managed to survive yesterday.
I don’t think I can bear to show up for another class. It’s like attending a funeral of a distant relative; you have NO IDEA who the person in the coffin is or what you’re doing there, but your parents makes you go anyway. Typical.
I wonder if all fathers are alike. Do they all refuse to wear under pants unless they are ironed so much that they feel like cardboard?? Do they all live on a diet of raw eggs and three-year-old loaves of bread?? Do they all insist that massaging feet with cow dung is good for health??
Ohmygranolabar, I just realized something totally heart-slamming. Brandy is arriving TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!! I can hardly believe it. It seems like Mom told me about her coming here two days ago. How can THE DAY be TOMORROW???
I have to prepare. There’s a whole list of questions I have to ask myself before Brandy enters this house. It’s basic, safety Qs like ‘Do I have enough pepper spray??’ and ‘Are your fists strong enough to crush metal??’
Now where did I put those chainsaws…??