I've spent all day with my mother so I'm not thinking about her or every ornament and picture frame she had me cleaning. Watching me work made her so tired she couldn't have a shower but she could eat tea as long as I cooked it. I was good, I didn't burn it.
I'm not thinking about the ewlection but I am thinking about nominating Ampersand Duck for an OA for that typo which sums up the current ratfest.
I'm not thinking about the Melbourne Cup because I don't want to jinx my horses and I'm not thinking of telling you what they are.
I'm not thinking about the roving huntsman. He was shoved out into the storm last night. I think the silverfish have disposed of the cockroach.
WHAT AM I THINKING ABOUT - SIX GLORIOUS YEARS OF DIVORCE.
I hope the bastard's miserable.
I don't need to hope anything else, he's already bald, fat, wears glasses and married a moron.
(not me, the Blonde)