Oh, blogworld--where to begin? There is SO much, and yet SO little to you. I feel so incredibly uninspired these days, as maybe you have gathered from that rather riveting post about the perils of licorice all up in my shoe? I would like nothing more than to entertain you with stories of my current trip back in time to 1984 (also known as the summer of living without a DVR system in my in laws basement). There's good stuff here! But every time I attempt to write it, all I hear in my brain is "Wah-wah-Wah-wah-Wah-wah", ala Charlie Brown. I fear I am a little bit dead inside. And by that, I do not mean that my emotion or my empathy or my understanding of the world has passed, but rather that I cannot find my SARCASM and it has rendered me an empty, lifeless shell. Woe is me.
In other news of how my world is semi-terrible: The pool looks less like the devil-possessed kid in the Exorcist, but still isn't *quite* right. I think those two weeks of demon possession have really dumbed down our expectations though, as we wake up every morning and whisper sweet affirmations to it, about how its looking SO GOOD today! But compared to the other pools, ours is still rocking the equivalent of a massive head gear, a perm and a Star Trek sweatshirt. Harmless, but AWKWARD.
Yes. The house is still on the market. And even though it hasn't been that long, it still feels like it's been NINE YEARS. What we neglected to disclose? The house is magic and self-cleaning, constructed out of diamonds with 5 brand new money trees growing out back! It's a steal! Now someone, BUY IT.
I'm not kidding.
I have a life to get on with and schools to figure out and desks to crap disaster into and ponytails to shove in random drawers. And also, I am leaving on an extended Hawaiian holiday here in a couple of weeks, at which time I shall travel forward (and yet still backward) to living in my own parents home, circa 1989. Although, I do believe they have a DVR system, and you had better believe that I will be ALL OVER re-runs of America's Next Top Model.
Speaking of reality TV--replaying episodes of Celebrity Rehab and The Real World/Road Rules Challenge at midnight is really screwing with my sleep schedule. And don't even get me started on 16 and Pregnant. That show makes my blood boil on a regular basis and yet I. Cannot. Look. Away. If I am going to scar my children emotionally, it is sure as hell going to be because I chained them up in our basement during their teenage years--and please, dear LORD, not because I in some way enabled them to procreate in high school.
Tonight, I heard rumor that copperhead snakes have been seen around these parts, in the woods surrounding my in-laws house. Probably in the very creek that I encourage them to explore daily. Great. All I need is another far-fetched and horrific scenario in which to imagine their tragic demise. Have I mentioned that I am going to be flying over an ocean in 2 weeks? And that I hate (HATE) to fly for fear of fiery death? Deep. Cleansing. Breaths.
So there you have it. Massive pity party/brain dump.
Working on it.