You never know what you're going to find lying about in the rose bushes after a zany Saturday night. The world, or at least the southside of Pittsburgh, parties and whoops it up while Miss Kitty and I sleep the sleep of the condemned (supposedly the damned sleep like babies...who knew?).Babies are so stupid. Don't they know that you're not supposed to mix different kinds of booze? Vodka, cheap French wine, Yukon Jack, no wonder poor baby Doe ended up in a bed amongst flowers in the twilight of their bloom.
Suddenly I have an urge to pour myself a glass of wine and feel smug.
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