Hmmm, mind racing, chest compressed by stress and a lump in my throat is accumulating as I try to determine if Starscream was a victim of my efficient but secret system of toy management:
On the best day, I feel like I have spun out of my own orbit a hundred times. Running from work to home, making supper, taking care of any household chores and then rushing to whatever sport/activity on the schedule for the night. I am out of breath simply recounting what an average day sounds…