Early this week Miguel got up from his breakfast for no apparent reason and went into a monologue at the foot of the dining table.
Let's talk about Mommy Sandy!
(Assuming a booming announcer's voice:)
Mommy Sandy: Talking to her undies.
Mommy Sandy: Always brushing her teeth after breakfast.
Mommy Sandy: Thinks that she is an animal.
Mommy Sandy: Being chased by the police at night.
Mommy Sandy: Forgetting to pass by the bank.
(Bow)
So according to him I am an obbssessive-compulsive animalistic nighttime fugitive with Alzheimer's who talks to her undies. Don't ask me where he got it from. And no, I don't talk to my undies.
3 comments:
what makes him think you think you're an animal?
Gee, what even makes him think that the police are after me at night?
But I've figured out the underwear thing: I do a marathon washing of undies during the weekend, and I sometimes use that time to talk to Mike on my handsfree (thanks to Suncell's 24/7). If you didn't see the wire, you'd think that I was talking to myself :)
you talk to your undies, teehee! :)
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