Was it really me who sat on the floor clinging to His leg and whispered up to Him with tears in my eyes, “I think the week in May is a good idea. For all the reasons you do.”? Did I do that? Me?

Cause, you know, the week in May is a week away. And it’s actually a week and two days.

Was that really me?

Oh god. It was.

Anyone got a space for a little slave girl? I won’t take up much room and I’ll eat scraps.

(And before anyone thinks differently, I’m joking about needing a hiding spot. Mostly.)