Utt…Utt…Utt…

It’s Thursday night and I find myself puttering and muttering around. Would rather be doing more muttering than puttering, but I seem to be too distracted by the puttering. Perhaps I should go make a cluttering attempt in the kitchen at cooking instead. When Sam comes home he will be uttering: “you actually cooked dinner!” And out of my mouth will come spluttering uttered as smoothly as buttering, “up.. utt.. um.. utt.. ur..”

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