It makes you feel all sorts of warm and fuzzy when the therapist you call on referral tells you that "some people might think you nutty."
Gee, thanks. She doesn't know about the whole Mayor thing.
We have an attorney.
And now we have a therapist.
I got my nails did for The Wedding so if I could remember her name I could drop it in random conversations as "my nail gal" and feel all sorts of swanky. All I'm missing now is my masseuse and I'll be set to change my blog...The Real Housewife of Crazytown.
Alas, no masseuse. I will have to settle for the reflexology massage I got for $17.99 a couple weeks ago. It really deserves a post in itself, but the moral of the story is- do not judge a seedy massage parlor by it's outside.
Why am I writing? Just to let you know Crazytown continues to live up to it's name.
Where are your children? At the table eating salad for lunch, at their request.
I have an attorney, a therapist, one-time nail gal, no masseuse and weird kids who ask for salad for lunch.
(Actually they are fishing. We ran out of croutons so I dumped gold fish on last night's salad. I'm going to turn around to a pile of licked-off-the-Ranch lettuce and a couple of orange crumbs.)
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