Something about returning home to an insanely meowing cat, covered in whipped cream, dog slobber, snail slime, calamine lotion and four year old puke.
Mmmmm...
And a little chocolate mousse, frantic cat slobber, and uhm...
In any case. It's been one helluva weekend. I'm going to go try to straighten it all out in my dreams and go at it chronologically in the morning.
And try to figure out how to explain to Guillaume that he's a total sweetheart, flirts wonderfully, is cute as anything, and that he's really better off chasing french girls while he's in france and laying off the taken women who are too old for him anyway.
For some reason, I am perfectly happy smelling of baby puke. Explain that one, eh?
*yawn*
*stretches sore muscles*