Timmy, Timmy

‘Timmy’  is what I see when I read the acronym TMI which stands for Too Much Information.

Apparently I’m just a wealth of Timmy.

Someone , who shall remain nameless (but who has a lot of names, lives in my house and drives BBoW) , doesn’t think I should blog  about my underwear as I did yesterday in my Layers post.

I, on the other hand, don’t have a problem writing about my underwear.  It isn’t like I’m posting pictures of it.

Word pictures don’t count do they?

I’m not sure poor Nameless Dave ( whoops) knows how to handle this new Timmy Kathy.

Age has turned the handle and played the pop goes the weasel song on my restraint and there is no going back now.

Dorothy in the box

We’re not in Quiet Kansas anymore ToTo!

Life is full of adjustments.  Over the past 60 years I’ve certainly made my share.

This time, I think Timmy Kathy is here to stay.

In factI’m rather fond of the name Timmy Kathy.  Sounds a little like I’m from the deep south and should have a brother named Ricky Bobby  or a husband named Davey Bob doesn’t it?

From now on, I’ll be sure to add a “Timmy Warning” to my blog posts if I’m posting about my underwear or body parts.

Davey Bob will adjust.  Bless his heart.

(Love you Davey Bob and I know you love me too, Timmy and all. Thanks for giving me the okay  to post about you.)

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One Response to Timmy, Timmy

  1. Thanks for the chuckle.

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