McFirenze
Ok so I admit it, its true. When I woke up this morning to church bells and loud opera (from where Im still not quite sure) the only thing on my mind was a certain Mc and it had nothing to do with a drunken Irishman. Despite the fact that it passes my mouth maybe once per year the only thing I could think about was a bacon, egg and cheese on a fluffy, greasy biscuit and one of those crispy potato pockets and perhaps a cup of coffee that was deeper than a half inch. So I made my way a few blocks down the street to the only McDonalds I knew of, only to find their breakfast menu consisted of a McPanna, which is the same damn sando of ham and cheese on flat bread that Ive seen in every storefront for the past nine days, and have eaten more than once. Alas, (and that word is for you JenLev), I went to my local grocer and bought proper breakfast ingredients. And as a result, made the best damn cup of perculated espresso in the whole world. I also learned its good to read packages carefully because my Kelloggs Cornflakes turned out to be chocolate flavored. McWhat?!?!
I then spent the next two hours doing laundry, which was quite necessary, but required the assistance of the housekeeper because no matter what, the vague pictorals made Ikea assembly instructions seem like copious manual. I thought the neighbor boys were exaggerating, but no, an extemely small load of laundry took over 2 hours and at times I believe it was boiled. And for whatever reason, Euros dont much believe in dryers. So all, including jeans and towels, is crispy and crunchy line-dried. Mommy knows how much I love that.
I apologize for the very uninteresting blog, but sometimes one just needs to be domestic and cant forever live in the glorious and glamorous life of the Renaissance. Although apparently she can still do laundry as if living as such.
