It's snowing. Again. We are in the middle of a biblical sorta thing. Not that I know anything about the bible, mind you, but this siege shall be one that everyone who has lived through it shall remember for the rest of their days.
I don't want to remember it as the siege of peanut butter as well.
It seems to call my name as I pass by the kitchen.
For breakfast, I had some peanut butter toast with a dollop of lemon curd on top. I'm now thinking of having a second piece. But, then I remembered I had to write this and, well, sobered up.
The slippery slope begins with these small “what the hell” moments.
Peanut Butter calls me, “Pat”, by the way. It may have to go live in the garage for this snowfall. I'll let you know. It's beginning to whine. I hate when that happens.