George has been sick for the last two days of tax season, so after he got home today (at a decent hour!), he sat on the couch and vegetated.
At one point, I looked over and he was staring at his bare feet propped up on the coffee table. He was closing one eye, then the other while studying his toes intently.
"What are you doing?"
"Well, the golf ball [on the floor across the room] is sitting on top of my big toe, so when I close one eye, it looks like an ice cream cone."
It's official. All his brains fell out by April 30th. Now we have to wait for them to regenerate.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
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