Students came back to school today.
Over the next two weekends Greg and I will move approximately 32 gazillion boxes and furniture into the new house. Which currently looks like it’s been hit by an F5 twister.
|This man is my hero (sorry Abraham Lincoln)|
Simeon has reached the hold-me-all-the-time-or-I-will-bring-down-a-screeching-apocalyptic-reckoning-upon-you-and-your-household phase of his life– and I have the unfortunate suspicion that he’s in the early stages of a trach infection. He’s also decided that this would be a great time to develop a fear of cardboard boxes and the sound of packing tape. Cause, why not?
So the blog has been pretty quiet.
Because I’m being held hostage– by my life.
I haven’t answered my email in a week. I’m not returning phone calls. It’s like the 1870s over here. Seriously like, if you need me you’ll have to stop by the house and leave your calling card with the
crazy lady who answers the door maid.
I’m sure things will calm down, right? My captor couldn’t possibly keep this up for long. But if you haven’t heard from me by next week– call Scotland Yard.
PS: I originally wrote “call the police” but it sounded way too alarmist and then I thought— oh gosh! What if someone actually called the police? My house is way too messy for an impromptu raid. So I changed it. Better safe than sorry y’all.
Linking up with Blair at Wild and Precious