i’m sorry, but i think i’m going to be sick now

my husband doesn’t bring me flowers.  he brings me specimens.  the other day he brought me a pale green and coral seed pod from a magnolia tree.  now, while i’d rather have roses, i still appreciate the sentiment and set it nicely on the piano.  he loves me.  then i turn around today and it’s a positive pustule eruption of seeds and other demonstrations of frantic and erstwhile adolescence.

seriously, i want to vomit every time i see it.  gah.


keeping up appearances

vicar: "oh no, it's the bucket woman. drive, drive!!"

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