As I type this I’m staring out my window at the four most ripe, delicious, ginormous, and plump looking blackberries.
These are not them. This picture is from last week. I’m too chicken to risk waking my family by going outside to snap some pics. Also, this chair is comfortable.
From where I sit there’s just one problem: I can tell two of the four have been nibbled on by the birds.
Not plucked. Not swiped. Just nibbled.
Does anyone else think their own hands look weird in pictures?
You know, now I’m sitting here contemplating eating the already half-eaten ones. It’s definitely a new low when you consider eating someone else’s leftovers. {This also applies to the consideration of half-eaten grilled cheese off a partly-finished kid’s plate. You swear you’ll never do it, but every parent eventually hits a new personal low.}
There is a fake owl around here somewhere… I went looking for it in the garage yesterday and couldn’t find it. This should tell you a lot about the current state of the garage and also that I can have a hard time finding something unless it hoots at me.
Aaaaaand there’s my Shark Tank idea: a cell phone that knows when it hasn’t been picked up in four hours and starts hooting softly every five minutes.
OOOH and then it can get louder and more frequent, like every four minutes, and then every two!
Wait a second…
Don’t you steal my Shark Tank idea…
I want to be the one to tell Chris Sacca he should consider a different shirt.
