This morning I woke up to a jar of peanut butter sitting upright in the middle of my bedroom floor. What was especially odd was that the entire top half of the jar was completely clean and there was only about an inch left in the bottom. When does the inside of a peanut butter jar get that clean? EVER? Someone would have to lick the contents of the jar out to get it that clean without completely emptying the jar.

Well apparently, that's what happened. I guess I threw away a jar of peanut butter yesterday in my kitchen and then brought the bag in my room to throw away some papers and I meant to bring it down to the dumpster, but I mean, that's just not my style. I like to sit on my mess for a few days/weeks/months/my entire fucking life. The top was on the jar when I threw it away, too. Not only is Wagandstuff an asshole, but he is incredibly dexterous.

It's whatever. It's fine.

We decided to pull an all nighter so we don't miss our plane. OK, I decided to pull an all nighter. Wagandstuff, who is swaddled in my lap, couldn't be more angry about it.

I've missed an early AM plane before. It's a feeling of failure I'm not prepared to deal with this morning.