sheesh

I leave you kids alone for like FIVE SECONDS and y'all write one billion blog posts.

How am I supposed to get caught up? I have WORK to do. Allegedly. My boss keeps saying I do, but really, what does HE know anyway? Oh. How to sign my paycheck. There's that I guess.

Anyhoodle.

I have had the last ten days off and guess what I did? If you guessed "nothing" you'd be partially right. For example, I did not vacuum even ONE TIME. Which is probably why the dining room, which is currently been transformed into a costume shop looks as though a wee little thread cloud exploded. There's seriously about one billion eensy-weensy widdle thread scraps in drifts around the dining room table. It's actually a pretty good look in a "I'll be on the next episode of Hoarders" kind of way.

Speaking of Hoarders. OMG. Are you kittens watching that show? Because it's both fascinating and horrifying. Much like the skin of my belly. Which I assure you that you do not want to see because EW. But anyway. I've learned some very important things from Hoarders. For example, Hoarders are often single. Or maybe not, but the people they lived with are buried in the trash. Also, Hoarders often times have food issues. I wonder if that's related? And EVERY SINGLE ONE of them is all "It's not THAT bad" right up until the point when someone is ready to condemn their house. Then they're all "Oh, I just don't know HOW it got like this!". Um. Dude. Remember the 52,894 times that you put down that thing instead of putting it away and were all "I'll just pick that up in a minute? Yeah. That's when.

Also? um.. yeah. Don't look in my closets.

Let's see...what else did I do?

Oh! My daddy came to visit and let me tell you one little thing: My next husband? WILL BE USEFUL. Because holy cats, does it make a difference when TWO people attack a project. Especially when one of those people has some clue what they're doing. Partially, I suppose it's that my Daddy like to putter. He puttered about my house fixing little things and I tried to lock him in the closet to keep him from going home but he started to cry and then I felt bad and let him out and also gave him some chocolate chip cookies that I made from scratch. That's a lie. It was Pillsbury dough. But I cooked it and that counts.

Which reminds me. Chocolate chip cookies you make at home.; crunchy or soft? I say soft. Crunchy cookies are too store bought-ish. But some people that I'm married too whined and whined about how they should be crunchy and so I made them crunchy and you know what? I'm totally right, they should be soft and he's stupid.

The only other thing of note I did this week is...um. Nothing, I guess. Because my life is pretty much exactly like Days of Our Lives except without Stefano DiMera kidnapping my baby, only it's really not my baby or IS IT? And my mother has never been possessed by Satan and my dad isn't an impostor who looks nothing like my real dad but nobody notices because HELLO he has the same name! so it MUST be him! Or is he?

I better go do an investigation.