I just realized as I started to describe Friday’s besst that I had mistitled the post about Thursday’s besst. (I labeled it as Friday’s besst.)
It’s as if I knew that the good things on Thursday would have to serve for Friday, because Friday didn’t just bite. Friday was a dog, and I was a chew toy, and Friday would. not. let. go. It just stood there and shook me for a while, just because.
And then it skulked outside and buried me in the backyard.
The good things about Friday were the parts where Friday quit chewing and the pain stopped.
Dad, Interrupted took me out for dinner. It was like a date and everything. The food was okay. DI was awesome.
© E. Stocking Evans 2014
Mom, Interrupted 