pony up

Here’s a bit of a review on the day’s affairs.

I cleaned most of the house, as I’m wont to do.

I planned menus for the week.

I cooked.

X bought a Mercedes-Benz.

Do not question the machine.

I came home from the market with my nine cups of arugula for tomorrow morning’s breakfast (don’t ask). I also needed some parmesan aged 24 months (she loves that), some Greek yoghurt, a bit of bread, and a few lemons. The lovely had departed for chiropractor at about 10am and returned about 2:30pm with a well-straightened back and a golden car – as if that’s normal. Actually, my story of heading to Reno for a queen mattress and coming home with my Prius probably ranks in the same category. I never in my life imagined I’d drive a Merc…never. It’s a six-year old car with low mileage, plenty of safety, and piles of extra junk. She honestly stumbled on a gem; that doesn’t mean I won’t give her endless doses of big law firm, Northern Virginia suburbs, and private school harassment. My only stance is this: I will not drive into a Whole Foods parking lot in an E-class Mercedes. No fucking way. Not ever.

I know it’s a lame stance…but it’s a stance nonetheless. I'm going hip-hop and all...

t.