Let's Blame The Dog

"Who me?"

Lately, the best word to describe the SJG household is Zombified -- not in the gory "Walking Dead" way, but in the "too exhausted to function" way. The good news is that Sir Blakey is well-rested. He falls asleep when he wants to, and gets up when he wants to, whether we want to, or not. Our needs are of no importance to him, whatsoever.

"Yes, you."

Our exhaustion comes across nicely in this late afternoon phone conversation with hubby, during which I regale him with my latest trip to the market:
"I achieved a whole new level of laziness today."
"You elevated your laziness?"
"I took it as high as it goes. You know that section with the hot foods, to the right of the shopping carts when you walk in?"
"Zzzzzz."
"Hey, wake up, I'm talking here."
"Sorry... Hot foods... shopping carts."
"Did you know that in all these years, I've never once bought anything from that section."
"I think I know where this is going."
"I walked right by it, like I always do, and then I backed up, and thought, 'oh, eff it, I can't cook dinner. I simply can't. It's physically and spiritually impossible.' So I put together what I pray will be a nice enough dinner."
"What'd you get?"
"Some nice chicken. Some nice roasted vegetables. I even got you some nice macaroni to go with."
"As long as it's nice."
"If you don't like it -- "
"Zzzzzzz."
"You get your money back."