Do you have a mop?
So I can clean up my brains that have spilled on the floor? I'd hate for anyone to slip on my periaqueductal gray. I hear it's quite slippery.
Coming back from lazy days of Thanksgiving where you lounge until the next meal is ready or when you digest the leftover pie you had for breakfast, is no picnic. Because there is no food. And no warmth outside.
So. Let's blow off this place. Let's leave the homework. And the work. And the brains. And go to San Francisco. They have food and sunshine and not much to worry about. Because of all the flowers in their hair.
Are you in? Give me a call by 3:00.
And don't forget the mop.
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