Happy Valentine's Day. My kids are having a battle royale after ingesting major chocolatage from giant Hershey's Kisses. I might rethink that gift choice next year.
The roads are a slushy mess, preparing to re-freeze overnight. So far, we are having school. I suppose I can manage one day this week.
I really should be doing something useful right now.
The #1 son fell on his butt when he took trash up to the dumpster at the end of the driveway. The dumpster the trash people didn't empty because they can't get up the gravel road. The boy looked like he wet his pants. For somebody so smart, he is really dumb. He came in the house, all the way to my basement lair, and asked, "What should I do?" Umm...make a Note-To-Self: If my pants and underwear are soaking wet with melted snow, change into dry pants and underwear.
This work business is for the birds.
This is the fastest January and February have ever passed, in my opinion.
HH went to the parts store for work today, and an old man came in. HH panicked, thinking it was The Shootist. He looked out front to see what kind of car. It was a Mercury Marquis, which is not the Ford pickup or the van that The Shootist has parked at his compound. HH is mighty jumpy these days.
The wet-pants boy is back, bothering me. It is a losing battle. I must go. He needs somebody to tell him, "Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat repeatedly."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment