The Husband & I are having our post-holiday, post-stress, post-Christmas-shopping, "Thanksgiving" dinner alone at home tonight. The aroma is creating a spiraling vortex in my upper intestine which threatens to suck in every mobile object on our block. I can only imagine what torture this is for the dogs, whose widdle (yes, widdle) noses are at least a hundred times more sensitive than the one on my face. Said nose has, by the way, stretched as I sit here, snaking its way behind me, out the room, down the stairs, and now rests sadly on top of the counter, staring with its eye-less face, which isn't a face but skin and nostrils, which is a kind of an off-putting mental picture,at the good old Ronco Rotisserie spinning and squeaking its gears and dripping succulent juices.
Damn, I'm HUNGRAAAY.
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