Our landlady is doing some remodel work in our house this month. I try to stay out of her way by sitting in coffee shops.
And eating pastries.
I know, the sacrifices I have to make....
But, today? I came home and found a rusty ice pick and this picture on the kitchen table:
I don't know who you are, but, girl in the yellow dress? It might be time to do a runner.
So you can wear balaclavas on your face.
Because someone has designs on the one from 1985.
*It's probably not. Because I make things up. It's way more likely that she's now an undercover CIA agent and she's having all friends and acquaintances ice pick any photographic evidence of her with really really big hair. Because, dude, that was one embarrassing hairstyle**.
**I'm sorry, Girl in the Yellow Dress. I apologize. That came from dark place-full of preteen jealousy and an inability to wield a hairspray bottle with any skill.