A large percentage of people don’t know how far six feet away is. Another percentage don’t realize they are blocking the entire lane looking for the perfect can of beans for six minutes.
At this point, I don’t care what opens up, I’m ready to roll around in the grass like a dog as long as it’s not my own yard.
Ironically, we get take out the same as before because taking kids to a restaurant is a living nightmare. “Don’t go under the table!” “Sit still!” “No, you can’t get ice cream until you eat something else!” “Don’t knock over dad’s beer!”
If I can’t get the kids outside at least twice, my night is filled with an hour of “time to go to sleep. No, now. It’s time. No, stop running. Stop screaming. Please get in the tub. Please get out of the tub. Please put your pajamas on. Please don’t drag those toys out, it’s late.” I now went from “meh” on rain to hating it with every fiber of my being.
I need to learn how to make more drinks. My “Coke for color” college skills are pretty limited. Effective, but limited.
The cat brought a living chipmunk in the house and it was the second most exciting thing this month.
At this point, I’ve spent four hours staring at the open refrigerator, muttering “None of this shit looks good.”
Coffee, coffee, water, water, beer, beer, mixed drink. Repeat. Sometimes repeat the latter part more.
If someone broke into my house and stole all the cookies and snacks, I would kiss them on the mouth.
Dream English Kids is the worst You Tube kids’ show and I will die on this hill.
I now really identify with the “Meesta Meesta, get me outta here!” lady on Happy Gilmore.