My kid has reached the age of never-ending questions. I feel like the mommy edition of the magic eight ball. Shake me up enough and I spit out answers like yes, no, and ask again later, more or less at random.
Lately, the daily drill has felt like, well, a drill, I guess. Work, cook, clean. Throw in worrying about bills and scrubbing cat barf out of the rug every other day or so, just to keep it interesting.
The cat has given up sharing the common areas of the house with the kid. They live on opposite sides of the baby gate and holler at me in tandem. She comes out when he’s in the bath or in bed, during which times she drags my socks around the living room and barfs for amusement. The rest of the day she spends curled up in the back office amid the flotsam and jetsam that is not three-year-old approved. Sometimes I envy her.
I vacuumed up two metal jacks today. Decision time. Do I split open the bag and hunt for the jacks? I also vacuumed up a handful of spiders. Nine-sies suck anyway.
The job is... Aw, crap, I’m not even going there.
Moving on.
Been writing some, and not just to my limited blog audience. (Hi Mom.) That’s one thing about times of moderate upheaval. My brain does what the cat just did on the rug. Hurl.
I wanted to escape out of the house for a minute or two this evening and then realized I really had no place practical to go. So I went grocery shopping. Now we have tortillas. I try to be my best.