Day 35

Why don't we have a better design to contain Cream of Wheat by now?  You have to use some kind of tool to tear a hole in the side of the box where it says "Press here for easy opening", and then the fine grains spew out in a mess, and then you're left with a gaping hole in the box that you have to find some type of covering for so the pantry moths don't make their home inside.  

 In other first-world problems, I tripped over the trunk of my elephant slippers and twisted my knee.

 My tidy, organized (in some areas) daughter made lovely agenda for herself. 

I told Sarah she should start a blog and she said she didn't have time.  I scoffed so powerfully that spit shot out of my mouth. Then she said, "Well, actually, I'm not grammarly capable of that.  My English isn't very good."

Mike's dad went back to the hospital last night and is in the ICU on oxygen. His COVID test came back negative.

I took myself for a walk and found this feather:

I worked on tilling the garden by hand, since we can't borrow the neighbor's power tiller.  I was accidentally forced to snuggle the neighbor's dogs when they  escaped from their yard and threw their happy, wriggling bodies at me.  I returned them and came inside for a much overdue shower. 

A loud truck just drove by, and Sarah said, "Jesus?"

I said, "I don't think Jesus is coming back in a loud, rumbling truck. He's coming in the clouds."

S: But isn't there going to be a loud noise?
M: A trumpet blast, not a truck.

S: Well maybe He'll blow a trumpet from the back of a truck.

M: Well, I guess it's possible that He'll come in the clouds, land on a truck, and then blow His trumpet.