So in an effort toward suicide prevention Jack and I decided that it would be wise for Lil Miss Spaz and me to stay home while the rest of them went to the lake this past weekend. To be honest, I was just the teeniest bit excited. It’s not that I don’t adore my family, rather, can you imagine? Only 1 person needing me? Not 4, but 1. *blissful sigh*
Apart from yesterday’s play date with my BFF, it’s actually been achingly dull and I can’t wait for them to return. See, in my excitement, I’d forgotten that no one would be here to help me entertain Liv (except my good buddy Nick, Jr.). I don’t know if you know this, but she will wear your shit out. The child never freakin’ stops, and my God, the mess she leaves in her wake. Right now I’m facing peanut butter painted on the scrollwork on the television cabinet and cereal crushed into my bedroom carpet and sprinkled artfully across my bed. That, my friend leads us to the one true reason I can’t wait for Jack to return…
I think I’ve injured Dyson (the world’s snootiest vacuum cleaner). See, despite the claims, he kept losing suction, so I decided to fiddle with the widget and remove the jibberjabbit and check for clogs. Unfortunately, now that I can’t get it back on I’m starting to think that maybe the jibberjabbit wasn’t meant to be removed. I mean, it did take some effort to get off (dirty)…. One hysterical phone call to my BFF (who shares not only my love of all things Adam Ant but my Dyson religion as well) confirmed that the jibberjabbit most likely probably should not have been liberated.
I am confident Jack will fix it. Jack fixes everything.