Now What?
I don’t want to talk about it. I’m so tired of being driven to anxiety by a raving lunatic. I know there will be another immediate distraction because we are characters in a reality show being produced by someone who is trying to distract the world clear of the fact that he raped children. But I don’t want to think about it. It was 28 degrees when I got in the car this morning, but the sun came out, and by the end of the day, I was tossing the ball for Oliver in shorts and a hoodie. Every day is an Ollieday. For those wondering, he surpassed 15,000 catches for 2026. He’s averaging about 180 a day. It was Wednesday, and that’s a pasta day. I made linguine and clams, and it was outstanding. It was probably better because I thought about it all day. Miller went to the spa. My beautiful cat was washed, got a hair trim, his nails were also cut, and we heard this gem from the groomer: “He was a little irritated with me, and tried to hide his nails in his belly rolls.” The groomer fat shamed ...