It's Sunday night. I'm tired.
This week:
The boys and I are recovering from bronchitis.
The babysitter couldn't come because she was injured.
I packed up my entire house, was homeless for three days, and am still unpacking my entire house.
I sliced my finger open with one of those dumb circle apple slicers.
I missed my husband because he was working ALL WEEK LONG - even the weekend.
I got yelled at by someone I don't even know and lectured by someone I don't really like.
My kid set off a house alarm.
I ate out every meal except for breakfast and two dinners all week (no kitchen).
I paid a large sum of money to Fernando.
I dyed all white dish towels red.
I put the wrong soap in my in-laws dishwasher and gave the dishes a bubble bath.
I clipped off half a dead toenail and am just waiting for the rest to fall off.
I cleaned up two houses - my own and the one I was staying in. My house, I've cleaned twice.
I couldn't figure out how to use a vacuum. It was harder than it looked.
The Chick thinks everything is lotion. He rubbed foaming glass cleaner on his face, in his mouth, and narrowly missed his eyes.
My brother-in-law got in a severe motor cycle accident and is awaiting surgery and possible shoulder joint replacement. We're praying for him.
My great uncle died.
My baby didn't nap all week long.
My grandma can't breath.
It was one of those weeks.
Tomorrow is Monday. I guess we're ready to start it again.
