No Spa Day
Randy’s texting me his impressions on today’s mineral water spa treatment in Boston.
Diego would be texting me from his spa if he had thumbs, gloating about how much prettier he feels when he gets his dew claws done.
I’m just hanging out ripping out the old caulking from the master bath. Right now I’m think about what that’s done to my hands (paint thinner? you’re soaking in it dear), but I wasn’t when I started typing this post.