for me to poop on
I'm sitting here at work and there are about three people in the entire building. It's quiet as a morgue except for the clacking of keyboards, and those keyboards belong to Bonnie and I, and what we are typing has nothing to do with work, but with an email exchange about fecal matter and something called National Poop Day.
At home is a nice cozy living room, a sick husband who needs love and a quiet Friday night waiting to happen.
Guess where I'm going?
Spoke too soon. More work. No home. Oh well.