I was just remarking to my husband how ironic it would be if the jerk who was sending anthrax all over ended up dying from it when it came back to him on something innocent like a dental appointment reminder post card. When I finished that thought I was overcome with the inexplicable urge to point my finger and blurt: Gotcha YA!
I figured “yaa’ll” would appreciate it more than hubby would’ve.
What a lovely antidote.
Not half an hour ago, someone handed me a couple of photos to caption. I acknowledged the instuctions with a “gotcha ya!” before I even had time to think about it.
Maybe I need to take a break from the boards. Or at least stop reading at work. 
I was in the pharmacy the other day, browsing the aisles while Mrs K got a prescription filled, when I happened upon the “diet aids” aisle. I couldn’t help myself… I started looking for Mexican Fat Burners.