This is the dirt pile I feel like right now:
This is the woman who swept it up for me after I complained that my green room was disgusting:
These are the friends who danced around the disgusting green room in Beauty School Drop Out hats and got caught by the stage manager who did not think it was in the least bit amusing:
Happy Birthday Krista Maurer! Yesterday, I put my foot in my mouth and told everyone that I was an art snob, emphasizing how picky I am about paintings. Then my dear friend Krista left a comment asking me if I hated the painting she created for me for my birthday three years ago. I tried to make a joke that my storage room just wouldn't be the same without it. But I think it wasn't appreciated.
No Krista, you can't have that painting back. I adored it from the moment I saw it and love that you took time to create something so personal just for me! Now I am hoping that she will tell me how she never liked the knitting basket, the old mirror, and the globe I gave her or that Burt's Bees gives her an allergic reaction.
Krista, you are my kindred Piscean spirit. Can we still be friends?