Almost the end of the week and time for an Irish stout

It's been a hell of a week and Regis and I are headed down to Patrick's, not for drinking beer as you cynics probably think, but for a Community Education class called Irish Stews and Stouts. So there. I'm sure it will be very educational. Oh shit, I just realized that's a lamb in the pot. That can't be right.
I've been sleeping great with the aid of Ambien. I go to sleep at 10 and don't wake up for anything all night. The woman in the beauty shop last night told me about a friend of hers who awakened in the kitchen of a neighbor, sans clothing. That would not be good.

The last few days have been very spring-like. Today was 54 degrees when I came home from school. Most of the snow is gone and the flowers are poking up through the dirt. I recited this poem to Regis last night:
Spring has sprung
The grass is riz
I wonder where
The flowers is

He asked if I wrote it and I admitted that I had not. Nothing worse than plagiarism.

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