well, the tension has hit a breaking point in my rumbly tumbly. i was shelving in popular library and chris came up behind me and said, "just give up on the socks, angela," referring to my outburst this morning when i couldn't find a specific pair of socks that i wanted and made myself late for work emptying out my dresser drawer and piling all the socks on the floor. he laughed and i jumped up and yelped like a damn dog, startled and strung out. "was that really necessary?" i snarled. "you're lucky i didn't punch you in the face." "you're pretty tense." "it's true." as i was warming up to that idea, i attempted a muppet face, and it only brought the smallest of smiles. oh well.
a toast: to red meat!