Orange You Glad…
Not orange like Prince Harry (HRH the Terrace Kitty, not the HRH Oops Naughty Bits) though he could be included too. My Prince Harry takes his meals al fresco twice a day and has treats separate from the step cats. Nice things from this week, in hues of punchy warm.
Orange like “Just Because [you’re so tired you think you might implode like a Supernova]” flowers that brought some cheerful at exactly the right time.
Orange like novelty-spelling cloth diapers that showed up in the mail. You can “Oh, just you wait,” and you might be right, but we’re going to give it a go. It’s the least we can do really, attempting not to turn the whole planet into that patch of garbage in the ocean.
Orange like the fruit bowl. If yours doesn’t have disco balls in it, your fruit might not be having enough fun. I don’t really have any cravings other than I can tolerate fruit now, when I really had no time for it before — and ice in my drinks. All beverages must now be the temperature of an Arctic ice floe before Al Gore invented global warming, see above.
Okay, fine. Orange like Harry.
