We're back from our trip to Washington. I've been racked with indecision about all the jobs around here I have to tackle and which to do first. I mean, how can I be expected to rush off to wash the mountains of stinky, stained vacation clothes when I've just sorted through the equally high mountain of the last week's mail and I have found my new People and Southern Living magazines? You see my dilemma.
Plus, when we got back, Jeremy walked through the garage to bring in the bags and told me "There's a funky smell in there. I think something must've died." Oh great, because that's just what I --or better yet, one of the twins--needs to do. Uncover the stiff, stinking corpse of some disease infested rodent...or worse. (I guess, I don't know what I mean by 'or worse'. It's not like I think my neighbor stored the dead body of a door-to-door salesman out there or something. Let's just assume anything larger than a small mouse would be considered 'or worse'.)
After 10 days away, the kids are all happy to be back in their house. And I'm happy they've been off playing with all their toys that have suddenly become big fun again. It'll give me time to read my People magazine....er, I mean, dust the three inches of gunk off the furniture and do a little detective work on that foul odor in the garage. If I do find a dead body, big or small, you will surely hear my screaming through your computer. And I'll get around to posting some vacation pics after I find out the 100 Beauty secrets I Never Knew and Why Fergie Looks Good in Genie Pants.
Finally, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my little brother Greg, who in my mind is still the skinny, 11 year old, floppy blond haired, Frito-pie-eating passenger I chauffeured around for two years straight.