My sink is covered in little black hairs, as if all of Ru Paul’s cross-dressers were here and spontaneously lost their eyelashes.
My husband has finally decided to carry out two weeks worth of his dirty laundry to the kitchen for me. “Can you wash my black pants first?” he asks, as I eye the incredible pile that is lightly caressing the ceiling, a stiffening black pant leg poking at a cobweb.
Melissa wants to know if I can help her find a tiny silver shoe that belongs to her Barbie doll that she lost two weeks ago. She explains how very important it is that we find this shoe because this Barbie who today has been given the name of Tina, is going to her very first music concert. As we all know, every teen has a record-breaking album and concert, along with glossy hair.
Mark would like to know if I have any more snacks that he hasn’t consumed yet. He has sampled every grocery bag that came in, sucked the chocolate pudding right out of the little plastic containers like a demented vampire and has used claw hands in every cardboard box in the kitchen. In fact, before we could stop him, he raked through bread crumbs, stuffing and rice pilaf.
A grinning skeleton hangs and gibbers from a huge wall of spiders.
Everywhere you look there are static clings of Reapers, undead soldiers and zombies. They all look livelier than I do.
My family wishes me a Happy Birthday, but I cannot remember how old I am. This may be a good thing.
We went to Toppsfield Fair and for the first time ever the Llama did not spit on me.
All of my bulky sweat clothes still fit me and my old maternity underwear slides right over my hips.
Chris watched every zombie movie he owns and will watch them at least four more times before Halloween actually appears.
Melissa has been wearing black, silver and orange for two or three weeks now…
Every year the schools take the children apple picking. I am gifted with bulging bags of apples. I do not like apples that much. I do not bake well. I have one apple pie recipe, one apple crisp recipe and one apple bread recipe. And two bags full of apples left over.
Did I mention we run a fruit fly convention once a year?