I don’t do ugly days.
Well, my mind doesn’t, at least. It curls into a tiny, sweaty ball and hiccups.
No, not pretty.
Not very productive either.
I did try to power through it. Decided to fry me up a hamburger…
Yeah, well, let’s just say that 14 hours later the smoke finally cleared the house and only one pan died in the fiasco.
No, I don’t do ugly days.
Ugly days do me.