Now I have laryngitis, so it makes no difference if I find my phone. I’ve never had laryngitis before, and it’s kind of amusing. I keep testing my voice, singing scales and trying to yell, just because it sounds so funny when my voice cuts out. At least I’m not coughing my guts out and doing that cough-puke-asthma-attack thing. Cause that sucks.
I want so badly to try the cinnamon roll recipe from The Pioneer Woman Cooks!, but I’m honestly afraid of the damage it would do to my arteries. Because would I share? Noooooo! And scroll through it all the way and tally up how much live butter is in that recipe. As my friend and former co-worker, Alison, from my formerly academic career as a library reference assistant (where I also used to work side-by-side with Daring Young Mom, I’m that famous), used to say, “I just cannot dill!” You might not get that if you’re not from Utah. It comes from the same region as “I think it’s gonna hell tomorrow,” “Put your head on your pellow and go to sleep,” “I forgot to pill the potatoes for supper,” and “Use yur fark sweetie, the carn’s still hot.”
But enough about me. Does anyone have a wonderful, perfect shower head you can recommend? Because I’m venturing forth into the world of DIY tomorrow. Actually I already ventured. Yesterday, I switched the door to one of my kitchen cabinets so it opens in the opposite direction. Because the guy who put it in? Not a cook. No sense of ergonomics, or really even common sense. I remedied that situation, me and my drill. I didn’t even require the assistance of the one-armed-man.