I received a text from H this morning reading,
“I don’t know if you knew this but there are three open jars of marinara sauce in the fridge right now. I think they have started breeding.”
Upon receipt all I could think was, “Excellent! My plan is working! (insert evil laugh and much twisting of my imaginary handlebar mustache.) Soon the entire fridge will be stocked only with marinara sauce and the world… will…be…. MINE!!!!” (Insert more evil bwaahaaahaaaing here and rubbing my hands in glee.).
Except that is the problem with texting and email. That stuff just doesn’t translate and you end up sounding like some sort of crackpot.
*image from smalldog.files.wordpress.com
