The other day my last pair of pants ripped.
Having no perfume but much ferret musk, late for a meeting at Mark’s school, I sprayed myself with Apple Cinnamon scented Febreeze.
It took me seven hours to watch a thirty minute sitcom on Monday, Veterans Day.
Yesterday I listened numbly to a discussion between children concerning science and history. According to what I heard, cows can not have a uterus and George W. Bush caused the Civil War.
I do not care that Taylor Swift thinks in Red. I cannot dance Gangnam Style. I will not call you, there is no maybe.
If the weather is amazing, everyone outside celebrating the clear skies and mellow air, my children will hide in the stale apartment hunched over computers.
If the weather is hurricane winds, the ocean reaching for the heavens, my kids will be the first ones out the door to play.
My laundry is breeding. So are the dishes.
When I got out of the shower, all three ferrets were sitting, watching me. One seemed to be giggling, another had her head tilted and the third, well, his eyes seem to bulge in fear, then he fled.