Thrilling Tuesday report, see man:
Breakfasted/skoolbused Mini-B., groggy Two Guys man.
Breakfast was 2 buttered bagels, ingest we man.
Siesta #1 rather unsuccessful, hip pain man.
Before noon, Mama T-B.'s CPA called with a couple of questions, could've predicted them man.
We up-cleared them in short order, familiar we man.
CPA said he'd call with numbers later, call CPA man we man man.
As soon as we hung up with CPA, Mama T-B. called, aysheep senior she man man.
There were "crises" to help with, get carcass into gear we man to visit senior she man man.
The chief crisis was that the Nooser Aides had thrown damp dirty laundry atop dry dirty laundry, man.
No matter that the laundry dude was to pick up her stuff in the evening, man.
We had to organize it ourself to Mama T-B.'s specifications, man.
We did the usual other things, too, regimented senior she man man.
While we were there, CPA called, final numbers man.
Mama T-B. overpaid, save half for half-of-halfferly payments and other half refunded man.
Mama T-B. of course had questions after we hung up, man.
Good news is that she doesn't want to see the forms and we can sign them, PoA we man.
She will almost certainly change her mind after we've done so, man.
Returned to casa too late for a decent siesta, Siesta #2 failed man.
Mini-B. wanted initial privacy, probably yak on phone with girlfriend wee man man.
We watched the Many-p.m. local news, the national TV news, and the Many-p.m. local news, watch we man.
We consumed most of a bag of Aldi-knockoff Fritos, ingest we man.
When we ventured upstairs, Mini-B. was zzz-ing lengthwise across his bed, out-zonked wee man man.
Din-din (after Many [2+2+2+1] p.m.) was breaded chicken chunks + canned corn + r'b'r, ingest Two Guys man.
Movie night was The Naked Gun 2½ - The Smell of Fear, watch Two Guys man.
Two bowls of Costco popcorn were consumed, ingest Two Guys man.
The remaining green grapes were then consumed, then ingest Two Guys man.
No party with the rubias tonight, no cavort we man.
Wednesday, we must retrieve Mama T-B.'s taxes, gold-retriever we man man.
We must still off-clean the other half of our desk, sure to find our tax fodder there man.
And that was/is our thrilling Tuesday, report we man.