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8am slot. He seemed seth offended that I didn't like the time he had especially picked out for me, seth but reluctantly obliged. And this guy was no intriguing Gomer/Forest hybrid, no intriguing anything really, just a boring-looking, receding little man with a hick accent and a missing tooth on the bottom. Less than thrilled, I have still upheld my end of the bargain, being that if seth I choose to reside within Dixie-limits, I am duty-bound to extend southern hospitality to any person whom I invite into my home. So yesterday, as I sat with my first cup of coffee, attempting to bring Fox News into focus at 7:50am, I was only mildly annoyed when the doorbell rang. Ah yes, it's the third Friday now. I remember. My house looked like hell, and clad in a sweatshirt, yoga pants, and untamed hair that had been put to bed damp, I was looking hellacious myself. But I allowed the bug man into my home, asked him to excuse the mess, and went back to the news. But not before letting him know that I had a fresh pot of coffee if he'd like a cup.
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