I haven't really left my house for about a week so I'm having a doozy of a time coming up with something interesting to post on this blog. I could tell you all about my hundreds of trips to the fridge or the 100 hours of television Pixie has watched, but it would just bore us both to death. As soon as Pixie wakes up from her nap I'm going to venture out of this stinky little apartment and get some good blog-fodder. I'm hoping to run into a crazy person at the YMCA or get rear-ended by a Mack truck. Or if I'm really lucky I'll run into an ex-boyfriend, beat him to a pulp and end up in prison for a while. That would produce some interesting posts.
But until I experience something other than staring at my email box, reloading it every five minutes hoping someone writes, I'll just have to leave you hanging. It's been a week since that crazy flight and I feel like I wouldn't endanger anybody's life if I left the house now. I have to. I've started about 20 posts today each one fizzling out after 2 or 3 sentences and I've concluded I'm officially out of interesting things to say. So out I go into the great big world to bring home tales of lunacy and outrage. Wish me luck!