And Then I Stepped in Gum . . .

Random Bloggage

Update on the WTNs (White Trash Neighbors): In addition to the pieced-together shack that serves as the "main house," the building about the size of most people's garage that's been converted into housing, the shed, and the godawful gazebo-type awning in their yard, a new structure has sprung up -- what appears to be a 12-man tent. Who knows who's living there. I'd take bets on how long it will be a fixture on their property, but I expect we'll be long gone before it comes down.

My calves hurt from standing outside all day at our yard sale, which was arranged primarily on our 45-degree-slant driveway.

We watched a show on the national epidemic of sleep problems last night (which, for some reason, was on at 10 p.m. -- ???). 70 million people in our country have some type of sleep disorder, and 60 million of them have insomnia. I'm one of them. Ironically, despite being bone-tired after the yard sale, I couldn't get to sleep until past 1 a.m.

I so suck at holidays. Dave does great with holidays -- lavish presents, fun plans, funny little notes, tearjerking cards. I just can't reciprocate. I woke up cranky this morning (after little sleep; see above) and spent the morning yelling at the kids while trying to get things ready to cook breakfast in bed for him (do you know how hard it is to do the dishes when an 18-month-old is trying to shove a granola bar up your shorts leg?). Then I stuffed the (lame) presents I bought in a gift bag and gave them to him. I haven't even written the card yet. Then I didn't even give him the day off, because I'm on deadline and I had to work a few hours before we went to a cookout that he wasn't even particularly interested in attending. All right, he had a day off on Thursday and another afternoon off on Friday, but still. He's the best, most involved father I know, and he's the most terrific partner. He deserves better. I'm sorry, honey, and I love you, and next year I'll do better, promise.

posted by Jennifer Morgan, at 8:55 PM