Why is it that I almost always end off Sundays feeling like I need a wheelbarrow to role me home and a cherry picker in a half-ton to get me in bed? After church this morning, we went to Swiss Chalet.... christian chicken, as the people at my church call it. I ate way to much. Then we went to Napanee, to visit my cousin and we ate some awesome hamburgers and potatoes on the B.B.Q. Did you hear that? That sound is my waist expanding.... the twang and snap at the end was my belt letting go and the floor joists buckling. Bulimia anyone?
Shamus
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