There’s a so-called equine hospital near our home. Every time we drive past it I quip, “It’s the horspital,” and then I whinny. So far, my husband has just rolled his eyes, but someday he’ll open the door and shove me out of the moving car. No jury would convict him.
I hope you weren't expecting anything profound.
If I ever need to plead insanity, this blog will provide valuable evidence.
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