Leftovers

What remains after #5 eats a breakfast of bacon, eggs, & toast with grape jelly:

(we’re still working on the proper post-dining placement of silverware)

You mean like they do for the Mona Lisa?

#5: JULIEJULIEJULIE!!!!

Me: What?

#5: GUESSWHATGUESSWHAT?

Me: I just did.

#5: WELLDOITAGAIN!!!

Me: What?

#5: GUESS WHAT I MADE IN ART CLASS TODAY WITH ORANGE PAPER AND WHITE PAPER AND RED MARKER?

Me: What?

#5: (pulls out his art project)

Me: DUDE! This is awesome!

#5: Yeah I finished what we were doing early and the teacher said I could make whatever I wanted!

Me: Can I take a picture of it?

#5: Yes!

We walk into the bedroom, put it on my bed, and I start snapping away.

#5: Maybe I should have put a sign on it that says no flash photography.

Me: What?

#5: No flash photography.

Me: Oh. . . to. . . protect it?

#5: Yeah.

Me: Because it’s a Work of Art.

#5: Yes!

Well, it is.

Bad love haiku, or why I married him.

Before we lived together, CC and I used to text bad haikus back and forth. I would usually start it off while I was waiting for my bus at the freak show that is the Port Authority. I had the count backwards but he would let it slide. They were like this:

Pigeon in the bus station

Hopping on one leg

Could hit him with my Kimber.

They mostly were about pigeons, because the pigeons that wander inside the Port Authority never leave and they’re all missing parts and get very aggressive trying to get your snacks. I was thinking about that the other day while he was making me food, so I wrote him one, sans pigeons. I like the ones with the pigeons better but the form was wrong, and this one has breakfast.

He makes me tasty

heart-shaped eggs and home fries

with Sriracha face: