WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK????
I'm also reading a book about a couple who decided to quit the rat race and open a small beach bar/grill restaurant in Anguilla. I am teetering between hating the book, them, and everything about them and, uh...well. That about covers it.
No, really- god love 'em.
I'm having negative feelings about all of this because the restaurant they opened (and built with their own hands- hey! I'm giving 'em props) is like a French-cuisine sort of thing with food they have to fly in from Miami and a full wine list and beautiful china and stemware and yet, they moved to Anguilla in order to slow down their lives, live a more reasonable, laid-back, beachy lifestyle.
And I guess for obviously Type A people, they are doing that. They are only open six days a week and only for dinner at that. And she's the chef. And he's the front-of-the-house guy.
Oh wait. I just looked them up. They've since opened a second restaurant, a beach shack place that's open for lunch and early supper.
Well, at least they're not wasting their lives on Facebook.
So I thought I was really getting better but fever does have a way of returning in the early evening, which mine has. I still haven't gone out to the coop. I just can't. I think I have lost seven chickens. Seven. I can't bear going out to see which ones.
Lord, but this is a low time.
I keep thinking about how yesterday when I went to go take care of Maggie and the boys for a little while, Maggie smelled just like a strawberry pie. I mean, exactly.
That's the best thing that's happened to me in days.
See you tomorrow.