The dog just went slinking up the steps and when a 100-pound dog slinks, he is the epitome of slinking-dom. His ears are down, his head is down, his tail is down and he's trying REAL hard to look like his yellow fur is the color of the gray carpet. He is currently under the bed, pretending he doesn't live here.
And WHY? you might ask, is the dog getting out of the way? Because I'm fixing to clean up the kid's bathroom and if you're ever gonna get your ass OFF MY RADAR, this is a good time. You wouldn't think two elementary-age children in a bath approximately the size of a refrigerator box could do too much damage. There are places for everything...hooks. Boxes. There's sort of a garden theme (more planter than full-size bed) so there are ceramic pots for toothbrushes and hair brushes and ponytail holders and such. You don't have to try real hard just...DROP IT IN THE RIGHT PLACE.
Well, apparently that just ain't gonna happen. It's shit like this that makes me drink during the day.
THESE are the number of shampoo and conditioner bottles in one bathtub:
Two heads. I know I'm bad at math but this just SUCKS.
THESE are the number of toothpaste tubes that are going to have to be thrown away because at some point in time, they were topless just long enough to turn the top inch of toothpaste into cement.
A year ago I bought these lovely bug hooks...just perfect for wet towels and turbies. They've been in a drawer for a year while I waited to remember to A) take one into town with me to B)match them to custom-colored wood screws.
Well, that ain't gonna happen EITHER. Here. Shiny metal screws and a really shitty picture because...WHY SHOULDN'T IT BE?
I just went in to call The Big Boy to ask how far apart in the wall the studs are. The "six" doesn't work on the phone because the entire phone face is smeared with chocolate. And now the tape measure isn't in the drawer, and the yard stick ended up the loser in a sword fight out in the yard and City Girl is out of town so I just think...I need a buddy.
One who's free for lunch at the Mexican restaurant today.
(A little P.S. here. Friday I had lunch with my friend, BG. Last fall she divorced her husband of 30 years, who had needed divorcing before that but she had kids, and hooked back up with her high school sweetheart. Her two kids are out of the house. Last Thursday, on a whim, she and Highschool Sweetheart went to Hawaii for a week. Because if you're MY age, you're supposed to be able to do that. And I guaran-damn-tee she knows where her tape measure is and her yardstick hasn't been in a sword fight in 20 years.)