Boyfriend says I'm like a really, really big bomb that has a really, really long fuse, and one day it's just going to be the last straw. Like, I suppose I've warned people that I only have so many straws and that I'm nearly out of them. I'm glad I gave that warning, because some people just don't, am I right? There they are, handing out their straws, and suddenly, they look down and there's only one in their hand. And then they want to get violent.
Not I. I have but seven straws left. Now I'll be selective about who gets them, but I'm just letting the world know I've nearly run out. Just be aware of that.
Unless you make potato soup. I can't really get mad at somebody who can manage a fine potato soup.
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