I leave for San Antonio in four days. I have piles of laundry to wash, fold, and put away. I have many broken things in the house that need to be fixed. I have to clean my desk and make a few phone calls. I need to design and put up a bulletin board for Moose’s class door this week, but I’m not getting cooperation from the other mothers. I don’t want to do any of it. I’m sick of the household chores. I’m sick of my kids and the lying slobs that they are. I just want to sit and read the papers, catch up on the dozen magazines that pile up each week, and have someone else take care of all the crap.
What have I been doing instead of my chores? Playing Ticket To Ride online and blogging.
Okay, okay. I’m going to sort my laundry now. See? Whites, darks, colors.
I really wish I were . . .
Wastin away again in margaritaville,
Searching for my lost shaker of salt.
Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame,
But I know it’s my own damn fault.
I’m that woman, and it’s my own damn fault.