March threw me curve balls. April threw the ball back to the pitcher and now he is lobbing nothing but heaters across the plate while I take big hopeless swings.
Patrick: You always seem to find the flaw in my plan.
Princess Bethany: That’s because there is always a flaw in your plan.
Do not ask me if I would like a hamburger or a taco or maybe a large turkey sandwich on rye, because the decision-making sector of my brain has shut down entirely. All those words you are speaking make no sense and instead feel like the tip of a beak that is busily pecking at my cornea.
Sometimes, Dooce writes things that really speak to me. Sometimes, she writes things that speak for me.
You know, they are sorta right…
Plans are only good intentions unless they immediately degenerate into hard work.