After two weeks with “the experiment”, I’m a mere 96.47% shell of my former self. I know, right? I’m a little worried about premature invisibility at this breakneck pace. So to slow things down a bit, I’m excusing myself for scallops and soup and the best company EVER at PF Changs. What could be better? Nothing, that’s what.

My bouncing baby boy signed a lease on a house this week. I was asked to review the paperwork, but still. Life as we knew it. Still ppffffftt.

Why are there no pictures of the 1960s candy counter and front walkway in Memphis’ Poplar Ave Sears on the Interwebs? The Interwebs don’t care about my happiest of memories, obviously.

Despite all the messy weather this week, there was a bright spot in the car scraping madness. Yesterday, after work, I warmed up my car and was just beginning to scrape the back window when a man in a company truck pulled up and said, “Young lady..” (I’ve come to find out that this is the step after ma’am – men think it’s cute and a nice thing to say, but it’s really sort of maddening if you think about it for too long, ‘cause we all know they’re not addressing the real young ladies this way.) Anyway, “young lady, you’re too fast. Let me do this for you.” Maybe it’s his job to make sure driver are safely sent off in clear cars, but I’m pretending it was just for me until I hear otherwise. 96.47%, after all. Oh, and the new bifocals. H-O-T. January's Indiana hot. Which is not, just in case you’re thinking the missing 3.53% has gone to my head.