But as Wayne Campbell once said: "Yeah, and monkeys might fly out of my butt."
Instead, he watched me:
- Prepare dinner
- Clean up after dinner and do all the dishes
- Feed the dogs
- Put away two loads of laundry
- Bathe our child and get her ready for bed
- Clean the tub
- Change a poopy diaper
So anyway, yeah, there was no invitation to take 'er easy. I just thought I'd start off with a little joke, see? I oughta take this act ON THE ROAD!The kid has stayed up until at least 10 p.m. every night this week. Needless to say, the mornings have been truly abhorrent. I don't know what she plans to do for a living someday (and I hope she plans to have a good career because, as our only child, it is going to cost her a bundle to put her dad and me in a nursing home someday. Plus, I plan to be in full-blown dementia by then (let's face it - it is already starting) and she is going to have to pay someone to wipe my arse and everything), but I hope it isn't a job that requires her to get up early. Honestly, by the time she is 13 I think it is going to take an act of Congress to get her out of bed. Now, when she does finally manage to get herself upright, she is deeply offended by everything in her midst. The dogs can't do anything right ("Get out of my room, Gideon!") I can't do anything right. This morning I tossed her nightgown on the bed and it landed on Teddy Bear, which earned me a reprimand the likes of which even ruthless dictators have never doled out.
So anyway, that's my week so far. Yesterday was my dad's birthday, or as A calls him: "My friend Granddaddy." A colored a bunch of pictures for him and he indeed received them on his birthday. One of them had about a hundred Hello Kitty stickers on it (Pop and I agreed that it was very Warhol-esque). I feel like I have Hello Kitty stickers coming out of my ass. There are about 456,000 per sheet - little puffy stickers that are barely visible to the naked eye. I find them in the dryer, in the bathtub, on the couch, in the dogs' bowls, you name it.In other news, I have to welcome my baby sister (she's 12 years younger than me) to the internet at long last. She's just gotten connected. She lives in a town called Corn, Oklahoma. When she first moved there and told me the name of the town, I said, "No, seriously - where do you live?" Sometimes it takes her a while to answer the phone and I just have this image of her climbing the pole to answer it, a la "Green Acres." Wee sister o' mine, if you leave another snarky comment on my blog, my next blog entry will be about the time you cut off your own eyelashes, or maybe the time you tied our house to the neighbor's house with yarn, or . . .