The Apocalypse came, and all I got were these stupid cookies.
So the alleged Big Day has come and gone and nothing feels any different except my house smells like cookies. The cats demanded pets and canned food. The dry cleaners had my sweaters ready. (Just think if there HAD been an apocalypse, my poor sweaters would forever have been in limbo. And I'm fond of those sweaters.) It poured down rain, but I don't think that counts as apocalyptic. Life goes on. Just think, I could have told whoever meets me on the other side that I spent the end of the world baking different permutations of chocolate chip cookies (oatmeal, peanut butter and chocolate mint).
I sometimes think that if the world ever WERE to end for realz, so many "prophets" have cried wolf so many times that nobody will be paying attention.
I sometimes think that if the world ever WERE to end for realz, so many "prophets" have cried wolf so many times that nobody will be paying attention.