Thank HEAVENS tomorrow is payday. Just thank HEAVENS. Goodness gracious me. Mercy sakes alive, looks like we got ourselves a convoy.
We've got $10 left in the bank. That's enough to maybe buy a big hunk of cheese and some tomatoes and some bread and have ourselves a feast for dinner. A real old-fashioned nosh up.
What is really tragic at times like this are the little things, like the melancholy scene that played itself out in front of our fridge last night. Grumpy asked how many beers he had in there and I had to inform him that there were only four. He tried to keep a brave face but I saw the little sag in his shoulders as he turned away. So he limited himself to two last night so that he had two left for tonight.
Let some stirring, swelling music play as I rise up and proclaim that this must never be allowed to happen again! Let the Grumpyberry home from this moment forth be a refuge from the cruel world, with a fridge always stocked with alcoholic beverages, and also Coke.
And chocolate. Nutty for me; peppermint or plain for Grumpy.
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