![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP9yqoXJyCndmgRNKpgO6bqcIDfOMlmIUrwj6ZE4FpvG-sLJkJ4O7590C2YVGWewrYoCrhy6WdDX-ZgsPq8bq-m16-cY7fbNIj1Cxb7EAIYsPG-yZ9UW3HXXPDa9GlN-lWfroDbO8deLA/s320/funny-pictures-angry-squirrel-leave.jpg)
Every day I intend to ask my husband to come out with a screwdriver and tighten up the latches to fix it because he had success quieting it once before. By the time I get into the house, unburden myself of my coat, boots, and various holiday packages, I inevitably forget to mention it. Or, I'll mention it and Jim will then forget to go out and do it, so either way I end up back in the car at 7:30 the next morning cursing my noisy rear entrance.
Oh, come on, you KNEW I had to make a noisy rear entrance remark. This is ME, people.
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1. It's bad for your hair. Duh.
2. It guarantees a horrible flat, staticky hair day.
3. I might catch Swine Flu and diiiiiiieeeee. Ok, probably not, but still. I could.
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Today, however, I'm having a bland chicken stir fry over plain, unsalted rice, and for dessert: a pear. Try not to be too jealous, ok?
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Tomorrow night is my company's dinner party. Considering how much I dislike talking to my coworkers under normal circumstances, the opportunity to mingle with them socially in the company of our spouses does not particularly appeal to me. This year Mala and her hubby aren't even going! Now I will be forced to make small talk with the toolbags instead of simply ignoring them & talking to Mala while I drink free wine & eat spicy Seafood Fra Diavolo like I usually do. Crud.
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Eight more shopping days till Christmas. I'm officially hosed.
Later, taters. Stay warm!