We failed to purchase a roast pork tenderloin. Maybe next time.
Rogue One date tonight!
You know it’s a good movie when you’re physically exhausted afterwards from watching so intently.
In 48 hours I will have seen The Force Awakens.
I’m telling you, I can’t wait for new Star Wars.
We had too many clouds to see the lunar eclipse tonight.
But I made cinnamon rolls for dinner, so there’s that.
We’ve all done it, seen it, or heard about it.
That one piece of trash that doesn’t get picked up.
You step around it, on it, over it. You make pass after pass with the vacuum, wishing and hoping. You say it’s not your job. You wait for the wind to blow it away. You ignore it.
But sometimes, it’s something else. Maybe not an emotional attachment, more a sense of everything having a place.
Or it just reminds you of the Millennium Falcon and you enjoy that bit of extra cheer in your day.
I passed this gum wrapper in the bowels of the mall for almost three weeks. I could have picked it up and thrown it away, but I didn’t. For all I know, I’m the only one who noticed it until it was swept away.
I’ll admit it; I grew fond of it. It became a friend to greet when I went to storage for champagne flutes or desk accessories.
Little spearmint Falcon, you may not have made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs, but I knew you were there. I hope the trash compactor sent you to a galaxy far, far away.