...I'll just eat this here fist-sized ball of cookie dough.
Don't tax your brain trying to figure out the logic here. There is none.
In other news, I just bought my first big-girl dining table from an antiques shop on 22nd St. called LAND OF WAS. The brick exterior of the store is painted in big white letters on a black background: LAND OF WAS. The table is gorgeous -- French farmhouse, simple and sturdy and deep amber in color -- and I love that I'll be able to gaze admiringly at it forever and ever and think, "You came from the LAND OF WAS."
And the lady of the LAND is a sweet thing! No awful creature, she.
Back to the dough: Oh, sick now.
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