Excuse this brief interruption of the peaceful, enjoying-the-small-things loveliness that I recently posted about. Because, if you don't hear from me for a while, you can assume that I'm in jail after finally losing my shit with the ice cream truck driver who loudly dings, blares music, and screams a creepy "Hello-o!" in front of my house EVERY. DAY. At naptime. And wakes Eliza up.
That is all.
Be scerred, ice cream man. Mama's coming for you.
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.
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