Day 467.

That's Mia, me, and my finger, pointing to my lime-green, butch-lite drill. . . that Mia still needs to get a new bit for. Because somehow (SOMEHOW) she managed to strip the most-used bit on the fiercest little gay drill that ever was.

Mia is currently sitting next to me, accusing me of lying, because she claims that the bit is "gnarled" rather than "stripped." I remain steadfast.