You know what I just realized today?
I write this blog. . . day after day. . . incident after incident. . . horror after teenage horror. . . and you never get hear the end of my interesting and captivating of stories.
Tell me people. . . how do you sleep at night?
And so, in order to alleviate the heartbreak of your insomnia, I offer you the following updates:
My husband was able to fix the little problem with the sHIfT key on my daughter's-hand-me-down-crap-top, but it has since developed what I fear will be its fatal symptom (a dark and scary screen.) But, all is not lost, my friends . . . I have been awarded my husband's 1998 hand-me-down-crap-top to use in its place. . . you know. . . kind of like a rent-a-wreck while my original craptop is down in his workshop.
I'm feeling much better, thank you. . . . thanks in large part to my new obsession with my Neti Pot. Oh yes . . . and even I had a problem finding the exact box of tissues needed to coordinate with the sick bed. . . .
Ponzi doesn't have love handles. . . but, apparently Trigger does. . .
Tonight's pilfered dinner for my husband consists of sliced London Broil, roasted red potatoes and green beans, along with chilled melon balls and a petite tomato and motz salad with balsamic vinaigrette. (I - on the other hand - had to call out to my ten-year-old nephew to stop his backyard ballgame and ask him to run over some ketchup for my hot dog. . . )
And - in an attempt to add another item to the List - I opened that bag of trash that Trigger took to the garage . . . on her own . . . without anyone telling her to do it. . . and I still found no evidence of a party while we were away this weekend.
What is this world coming to????
OH. . .and p.s. . . . I had two cavities. . . Life stinks. . . doesn't it????
