I'm having one of those weeks where I just want to ball myself up in Mrs. Butterworth's lap and let her twirl my hair into teeny-tiny knots. She would tell me stories about farm animals and muffins and syrup-making, and I would tell her all about my estimated quarterly tax payment that's due on Monday. I'd ramble on about the contractor who installed the wrong carpet in Jared's office, the woman who forgot to cut me a paycheck before her week-long vacation to Cape Cod, and my leaky front window. Then, when I had exhausted my list of concerns, she'd pull an unopened bag of mini-marshmallows out from under her apron and feed them to me one by one by one.
Yes, it's true. I fantasize about cuddling with Mrs. Butterworth.
And Big Bird.
And Bill Cosby.
And Dr. Oz from the Oprah Show.
Cut me a break you guys, it's been a really long week.