It appears that Andrew's cannon-ball induced neck injury has given Drake a case of the woopses. What? You don't follow?
Well, yesterday morning I awoke with sympathy-neck-pain for Ange. It's lingering because I keep forgetting to ICE then heat, ICE then heat. Or so Tinker says. Anyway, my body said "As long as you've got a broken neck" (maybe exaggerating) "might as well have a mid-summer cold, too".
And I do.
Drake, ever the gentleman, was feeling my pain. So he decided to throw up on the rug this morning. Drake! Chances are he'll chuck it all up again because I forced him to eat some peanut butter bread and rice. Tinker says not to feed him for 24 hours. I'm starting to think she's a know-it-all. But it's too late.
I declare the best scissors for broken necks, colds and barfing are these bad boys.
In the last two days I've cut: fabric, Drake's hair, my Flav-or-ice, and 12 cardboard lady bugs, a butterfly and a net. Maybe I even cut the grass with them.
I didn't.
Things are productive around here with this broken neck cold and barfing dog. I can only imagine Drake's sympathy illness during Swine season.
Might need 2 pairs of scissors for that.
U sound a tad loopy. Go to bed.
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