My heart is in a thousand pieces on the carpet around me and if I was a real slob it would be covered in tissues used to dry my eyes and blow my nose.

My five-year-old inner child is a mess. It will take years of therapy to fix her!

Seriously, though, this is right up there with the Egrets. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.

My pathetic sentimental self is ecstatic but thoroughly exhausted.

Bravo, G! Bravo! You took this prompt to a whole new place. Bravo!