I can't keep that woman home. She's not paying proper attention to me. I am or should be her only concern and she should devote all her time to me.
I'll have a bit more time now, as her bad habit kicked in. She thinks she is 19 years old. HA! I repeat--- HA!
She isn't teetering on the brink of extinction, no, but spring poultry she ain't. Neither am I. Both of us should be proper and circumspect ladies. But one of us, coff coff--- her---coff thinks she is a spring chick-hen!
She hurtles all over town trying to rack up miles on her Fitbit after she flings machine weight around. Good grief Mom. Give it a rest, OK? Huh? And no, I don't want to hear about the second sciatica attack. You did it to yourself. So when it's over, lay down with me and nap instead.
That's all I have to say about THAT!