"So what are you doing tonight?" asks The Sister a few minutes ago.
"Oh, nothing. Just watching Spawnling eat an octopus," I reply.
"Ok..."
Here are some pictures, The Sister, just so that you know I was telling the truth and that I wasn't saying that just to avoid you.
Not this time, anyway.
And yes, that's my bra folded up in the first picture. From Walmart. Sexy.
After that, Geekster and Spawnling did their favourite activity. Geekster played 'Don't Cry' by Guns n' Roses (I do a mean Axl Rose, honest to goodness truth).
Today was supposed to be a quiet one. I was to drop Gutsy off at preschool and head home for a quiet morning, followed by an equally quiet afternoon with a hint of laundry sorting, a splash of dish cleaning and a hefty amount of chocolate swallowing.
But then I thought of The Song. That dreadfully butchered Christmas carol from yesterday which is surely a sign of my faltering social life. Having no desire to come up with a tune about seperating my lights from darks, I decided I should go bring Lushgurl some breakfast and a baby to vomit on her.
Breakfast we had and vomit he did. He even soiled one of her facecloths because I forgot to bring wipes with me.
On my way to pick Gutsy up from I-hate-school-I-don't-want-to-go!!, we were invited to hang out with the Wailings.
I've often wondered why Mrs. Wailing likes to spend time with us. I don't always manage to acquire and retain normal friends, as is readily apparent by reading the blogs of the people I do associate with - or rather, who associate with me. Mrs. Wailing had her wild days, as we all had in our youth. But then she did everything in that normal way only seen in movies or read about in books: she bought a home, married and had two children.
She stays at home, goes to church and is really crafty.
I stay at home and... yeah. My point exactly.
Today, while we were visiting, she said "Hey! You know what we should do? We should go have breakfast at Ikea with the kids!"
Aha! There's my answer. Now there's no doubt that, like myself and others who spend time with me, her solar panels are facing North.
No normal person would get excited over going to Ikea with the kids unless the words 'put them in the ball pit' are included. You have to be completely off your rocker to want to bring small gremlins into a large furniture store, let alone a restaurant inside a large furniture store.
Following that reasoning, I readily agreed to go tomorrow morning. Really early in the morning. And I'm looking forward to it. I'm sure it will be the peaceful and orderly trip I'm imagining.
Birds of a feather get stupid together? Great minds are on the pipe? They both work.
"Oh, nothing. Just watching Spawnling eat an octopus," I reply.
"Ok..."
Here are some pictures, The Sister, just so that you know I was telling the truth and that I wasn't saying that just to avoid you.
Not this time, anyway.
And yes, that's my bra folded up in the first picture. From Walmart. Sexy.
After that, Geekster and Spawnling did their favourite activity. Geekster played 'Don't Cry' by Guns n' Roses (I do a mean Axl Rose, honest to goodness truth).
Today was supposed to be a quiet one. I was to drop Gutsy off at preschool and head home for a quiet morning, followed by an equally quiet afternoon with a hint of laundry sorting, a splash of dish cleaning and a hefty amount of chocolate swallowing.
But then I thought of The Song. That dreadfully butchered Christmas carol from yesterday which is surely a sign of my faltering social life. Having no desire to come up with a tune about seperating my lights from darks, I decided I should go bring Lushgurl some breakfast and a baby to vomit on her.
Breakfast we had and vomit he did. He even soiled one of her facecloths because I forgot to bring wipes with me.
On my way to pick Gutsy up from I-hate-school-I-don't-want-to-go!!, we were invited to hang out with the Wailings.
I've often wondered why Mrs. Wailing likes to spend time with us. I don't always manage to acquire and retain normal friends, as is readily apparent by reading the blogs of the people I do associate with - or rather, who associate with me. Mrs. Wailing had her wild days, as we all had in our youth. But then she did everything in that normal way only seen in movies or read about in books: she bought a home, married and had two children.
She stays at home, goes to church and is really crafty.
I stay at home and... yeah. My point exactly.
Today, while we were visiting, she said "Hey! You know what we should do? We should go have breakfast at Ikea with the kids!"
Aha! There's my answer. Now there's no doubt that, like myself and others who spend time with me, her solar panels are facing North.
No normal person would get excited over going to Ikea with the kids unless the words 'put them in the ball pit' are included. You have to be completely off your rocker to want to bring small gremlins into a large furniture store, let alone a restaurant inside a large furniture store.
Following that reasoning, I readily agreed to go tomorrow morning. Really early in the morning. And I'm looking forward to it. I'm sure it will be the peaceful and orderly trip I'm imagining.
Birds of a feather get stupid together? Great minds are on the pipe? They both work.