|Move along, nothing here to see
||[Jun. 8th, 2014|07:47 pm]
I don't know why I feel like every journal entry has to have a point. I enjoy reading other people's journals when they post about their day, or what they're cooking, or reading, or watching, but I always think if I post a journal entry like that, everyone will unfriend me. I guess because everyone else's life is more interesting than mine? And now I'm resorting to uptalking? Like, ErMahGerd, when did THAT become a thing? No, really...when did that become a thing? Because I don't remember noticing it until recently.
Granted, I don't remember a lot of things these days. Like phone numbers, or what I had for breakfast, or what it was I went to the store to get, or to put on pants. Well, maybe not that last one. I might have made that one up. I can't remember.
One thing I did remember today was how much I used to enjoy eating at the Spaghetti Warehouse downtown. But I haven't been there in years. Aside from one lunch there about ten years ago, I hadn't been in decades. So Husband humored me and we went there for dinner tonight. I think Husband and The Boy were mostly indifferent (although The Boy's ears pricked up a bit when I told him it was haunted) but Middle Daughter liked all the woodwork and antiques. And I ate too much bread and drank a glass of wine, which means I should be falling asleep any minute now. And if this post was supposed to have a point, I've forgotten what it was.