Weasel has piles
Piles of emails. Piles of bills. Piles of phone messages. Sad, disconsolate piles of soiled and crumpled socks and shirts and underpants, waiting to be laundered. It’s heartbreaking.
I made a bunch of stupid promises to clients today, just to make them shut up and go away. “Be off, little man! Your foolish ‘job’ and ‘deadlines’ do not concern Weasel.” S’okay. My mouth has been writing checks my work ethic can’t cash for nigh on half a century now.
All this could have been avoided if only one of my rich old aunties had left me a little something on her way out the door. But no. I’m all out of rich old aunties now, and it turns out I wasn’t nearly as popular as I thought.
Oh, well. I’m tired of posting about me and my travels. Tomorrow, I’ll post about…me and some other thing. Enjoy!