It Only Happens When It Rains

I was a big fan of Shirley and these guys in the ’90s.

I thought of them today because, well, you know, it’s raining, the barometric pressure has changed dramatically, the nuts I had last night were too salty, and the resulting aftermath was akin to the sinking of the Titanic.

Bedding in the washer. This hasn’t been the reason for months. We’re grouchy…all of us. Hence, we’re not speaking. It’s better this way and we know it.

I plan to be silent all day. I need to write.