Here I sit. My butt is getting wider by the second, I can feel it! And it’s all of you people’s fault… yeah, that’s it! That’ll be what I’m going with till something better comes along.
The blog reading isn’t so much the problem. I fairly well devour that quickly. It’s the sitting here stewing about all the teeny-tiny thoughts in my leetle head. How to proceed? How to proceed?
It doesn’t help that I am a tad ADD. And no, I am not good at addition, so don’t get smart with me. Whatever it is you were thinking of for a comeback, I’ve already thought of it and wasn’t clever enough to sit down and type it. Now it’s gone! Oh, you think you’ve got something new? Well, good-lemme hear it! *Heh, picturing my bloggers screwing their faces up and thinking about their comment*
Do I sound a tad bitchy? I’m not really, just kind of frustrated. I feel like I’m being creatively stifled… by myself, I guess. The thinking that if I sit down and just start typing is quite obviously not working out the way I wanted it. Where the hell is that novel I was thinking about writing right now? No doubt, being stifled somewhere.
At some point I am going to be forced to apologize to you, but bear with me for a minute… it’s coming, any minute now I will brainstorm. Just waiting till the moment gets here and I will seize it. Carpe diem and all that. Maybe I’m just waiting till the dishwasher stops running. Or till I get a glass of water. Or the smell of the last bedpan I emptied leaves the air. Or I finish folding the load of towels on the couch.
Ohimgawd. you should totally see the load of towels on the couch.
Remember last time I left, the house was perfectly clean and I came back to, well, less than stellar conditions. This time, not so much. Everything seemed really good, especially considering I didn’t clean before I left, cause, well hey, I learned my lesson. Plus, I was gone for 11 days this time and not just 7. So I am pretty pleased about all of this and I did my laundry I came home with and collected a little bit more out of our hamper and Henrietta’s. The girls do their own usually. After a day or so I began to notice that H’s stock of bath towels in her bathroom was very, very low and I wasn’t finding them anywhere. Not her hamper, or the dryer or washer or anywhere. So it slowly dawns on me that the younger child living here had taken over her bathroom while I was gone and all her towels were, undoubtedly, on the floor in her room.
I hollered, (that’s what you do in Texas), upstairs for her to throw me down all her towels to wash. Take a look at just the towels, hand-towels, and washcloths that landed on the, well, landing.
Now, I’m feeling guilty and need to get back in there and fold and restock H’s towels. All the ones that aren’t purple or turquoise are the guilty, (but CLEAN AND DRY) girl’s and go in her bathroom.
So there. I sit here all wide-assed and guilty for not folding towels and it’s all YOUR FAULT. That’s my story, and I’ll stand by it.
Now, I guess I need to apologize for this post. I’m sorry, I will try to get something better worked up soon.