Who wants a pickle?

A couple days ago Martin and I rearranged some things in our apartment. Now there's much more room for me to sit [see above]. More importantly, The Pickle Chair, which had been relegated to an awkward spot behind the darting pitch, has been moved to a prime TV viewing locale. This has already improved my life greatly; my time spent sitting in its gentle striped caress has skyrocketed. I also feel confident that the updated card-playing alignment will prove to be a catalyst on that front as well.

Now if only Martin would stop buying brown eggs.

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