I'm almost elated that spring break is almost over except for the fact that I'll have to wake up at that ungodly 6 a.m. hour once again. The little road trip up to see sister Paula was excellent happiness therapy but then I return home to the same ole stuff like,
Feeling like Hansel and Gretal with their bread crumb trail as I follow after the terrorist here with his little boy messes. There's the trail of socks, the trail of shoes, the trail of popcorn, the trail of empty drink cans and half full, abandoned glasses. Oh, and I almost forgot the trail of kiddy Uno cards and left-over pizza.
The laundry basket taking on the appearance of Mt. Somethingorother, and
The danged telephone ringing constantly and I can't ever find it and I can barely get up to answer it cause of this wicked aching back of mine.
There is one ray of hope around here, I think. Hubby came in around 9 last evening and asked me if I'd been to the beauty shop. I'd had a shower and rubbed a little gob of mousse in my hair but I never got around to actually using a brush or comb on it. I think it would be best not to mention his compliment? to my hairdresser. Ya think?
Of course he could have had too much of the field dust and grit in his eyes to see me clearly.
Ok, I'm off to find that heatpad and wrestle the remote away from the terrorist.