Sheriff, Judge and Jury

The judge adjusted her pigtails while the jury remains hopelessly deadlocked between the bustier and the chainsaw accessorization.

Tonight's bla-- uhm, credit goes directly to Bakerina in gladness for these past 20 minutes during which I have not accomplished the anticipated evening dish-doing or paper shredding. Nothing else happened either, which could be either a cosmic coincidence or (more likely) a testament to the power of mindfully ignoring what can be put off when one cannot bear to figure out what is supposed to come next.

My alter-ego image shall appear in the coming days, unless someone permits the jury to call it hung and they all disburse for lunch. Then? Alter-ego better run like a scaredy cat cuz that thar is the sound of trouble a'brewin.