Thrilling Thursday report, see man:
Lurched downstairs in the morning to discover Mrs. T-B. intending to do laundry, no no no NO NO man.
We forewent mandatory coffee purely to avert the impending disaster, worse than Covid-Many man.
Mrs. T-B. then intended to do a separate load of just her Manyzen-or-so ankle-socks, man.
This set the tone for the day, tense and unproductive (except of course for selling POTSs) man.
Had Zoom caucus with Mini-B.'s teechurs at half-past noon, but they neglected to send out meeting codes man.
Half-hour meeting began Many (2x2x2x2+2+2) minutes late with fewer than half the attendees, waste of time man.
Did get rather nice nap-without-cat in afternoon, zzz we man.
Several coronaveerus-afflicted countries are impressed with the POTS factory's scrupulous cleanliness and want to order enough POTSs to replace all contaminated ones domestically, more than happy to oblige them we man.