Thrifty Thirty-two

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I am grateful that I have the ability to procure myself a new toothbrush after I find my old one floating in Bailey's water bowl like a bloated corpse.
My butt hurts. The medicine isn't helping much. Patience I suppose. I will not be eating a salad for a while, that is for very sure.
Minimal reduction of hours, full schedule, busy beaver. I like it though, for the most part.
Ever think about the reaction you'd have if you saw them in public? Reaction to people's presence whether they show up on your door step or take you out of the equation... what would you do if you saw them afterwards? The stories and poems never go that far. Inspired?

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