Thursday, February 15, 2018

Not preps.

As an aside, using the word "preps" as a plural noun for freeze-dried food and spam cans of Russian ammo grates on my ears like fingernails on a chalkboard. So, next time we chat face-to-face you now know how to get on my last nerve in a hurry.

Anyway, the thump was just heard on the front porch announcing the latest delivery, of work supplies. I mused aloud to Bobbi "You know, the UPS driver probably thinks we're squirreling this shit away in the basement in case of zombies, when in reality it gets burned up about as fast as it comes in."