Which the only thing funny about Again-istan. Because the rest of it sucks.
That man must sit there biting his tongue to keep from laughing when I bitch about my day and how much stuff I had to do. And he'll get up and (now that Lent is over) pour me a glass of wine and nod and make his little lists and let me prattle on about how I clearly must be SuperWoman for picking up the dry cleaning before I went to work.
In my car that's full of magic gas.
Hurry home, McLovin...or we may have to move into a new house. This one is a mess.
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