I'm up late and I'm in a huff. You wanna know why?
None of your bizness, that's why!
(See what I mean? About me being all sassy pants)
When I get huffy I start vacuuming, and when I start vacuuming I start thinking--usually about how I should get huffy more often because I get so darn much done that way, especially when my thoughts begin with GRRRRrrrrrrr! and RaRrrrrrrrr!
What I hate is when my thoughts start getting all mushy and I start thinking things like, "Oh, goody, My Three Sons is on! I lub My Three Sons! Especially when Chip is eating cookies with his shirt unbottoned at the Lazy Susan table in the blue kitchen!"
Sometimes I catch myself in time to turn my thoughts back to something grumbly like, "Why doesn't anyone tell uncle Charlie how awful his bowl haircut is?" or "Is Mrs. Douglas really that dumb to go to to bed with all that blue eye shadow caked across her lids?"
Other times I start wondering about the deep mysteries of life, like does Mrs. Douglas ever get huffy with Mr. Douglas? Maybe when the cameras aren't rolling?
Which often leads to me wondering was I right or was my hub wrong?
Which often leads to me wondering why did Thriller play on the radio today? It's the middle of December for Pete's sake!
That kinda self-talk only gets me nowhere because honestly Thriller is one of those cross-cultural songs for all seasons.
And anyway, it doesn't matter who's right and who's wrong, even though I am and he is. The only thing that matters is lub. All you need is lub.
(Define lub again.)
Okay, it's very late and I dozed off in between the last three or four sentences, which means this is my first ever stream-of-conscience writing to date.
Since I'm already being random, allow me to just spill my thoughts. In no particular order.
This morning I found my son trying to reassemble the wise men. He was trying to put their heads and bodies back together. I think he's a healer, that one! Either that or he's the one who broke them.
Today I went to watch my twins sing with their 6th grade class. They sang that classic Christmas tune Santa, You're Too FAT! Is it just me or is that kinda rude? I hope Santa doesn't develop an eating disorder.
I found my box of checks today. Did you know they were missing? Well they were, along with my hammer and all of my other important papers. I have been searching high and low for my check books since I went to Colorada over a month ago. Guess where they were? They were in the wrapping paper bin under my bed. Of course!
Too bad I didn't start wrapping Christmas presents earlier.
There was an Office Marathon on TLC today. Which allowed me the opportunity to catch up on 12 loads of laundry. Some of them 8 weeks old.
Was that TMI?
And last night Nacho Libre was on! Which always reminds me, "My life is gooooooooood!"
I better go to bed and apologize for being little miss sassy pants!