Yesterday I was feeling mighty blue. Sobbing constantly blue. Couldn't eat blue, which, bonus!
And I am happy to tell you I had a friend in my hour of need.
Okay, mostly Marvin came over because I had tons of leftover lasagna from my book club, which met here Sunday night. Still.
That's my "the-word-'Greensboro'-written-in-Hebrew" shirt, which I love. I similarly got one for Marvin, back when we were still cohabitating, only his is forest green. Note my shirt is blue, to match yesterday's mood.
Anyway, I told Marvin about Daniel Boone person-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, even though he probably didn't want to hear about it, but hey, free lasagna. And my lasagna is effing good. When you make one dish, you do well at it.
So he's sitting over by my color-coordinated bookshelf, Marvin is, and he gets down a book.
"Hey. This is mine," he says, interrupting my reverie.
Y'all. It was this whole book of--guess what?--horrifically bad album covers. I know the title keeps it a mystery.
Dude. You have never seen such, you know, bad album covers.
I started to titter a tad.
And maybe giggle.
And, you know, pee myself.
Was in physical pain at this point.
Could I? Could I have a night cap with Larry? One can dream.
June's new motto. And also hairdo.
Once I got to the lubricated bones, I was a mess. I was laughing so hard I thought I might barf. Oh, Reverend Clarence.
And really, maybe you...shouldn't.
Am weak. Why is there an eightball in a casket? I have no idea.
I guess I do not need to tell you I was...cheered by the bad-album-cover book. As in, Marvin left and I was in a heap on the couch. Oh, dear God.
Also? I didn't let him have it. The book, I mean. Hey, he left it here. Possession and nine-tenths and all.
Anyway. Thank you, Marvin, for having a stupid book like this that I never once looked at before this night.
And of course, thank you for the dove.
