To Friday, at least. As trump keeps throwing himself on the ground like an outraged toddler told no at the toy store, we’ve discovered just a few of the many, many things we weren’t supposed to know about, like pardons for cash, a surveillance list based on no evidence at all and that trump himself profited from the assistance intended for small businesses.

Fun.

But we are closing in on the end of this awful chapter, and soon he will be gone. Into obscurity, no question, into prison, perhaps.

Let’s hope it’s prison.

Meanwhile it’s a bright sunny day in December, a month after the election that won us our nation back, and I think tonight calls for a pizza. Which means cinnamon rolls in the morning with the other half of the dough.

Yum.

And with that, I’m off. Have a great Friday and a wonderful weekend.

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Check out  my full-length novels: 
Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)   
Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 
Her Cousin Much Removed
The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.
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