Whine and Chocolate

It’s official. I decided yesterday. I HATE WALLPAPER.

Oh, sure, it looks nice when it’s first put up and everything, but taking it off is a complete and total bear! I still ache from yesterday’s bout with the dining room walls.

Gee, guess what “C” is for today?

 

COMPLAINING!

We’re all prone to complaining at some time or another. Lately my biggest complaint has been clutter. (Hey, another “C”!) It’s everywhere! No matter how much I clean, sort, and toss, my clutter still seems to replicate faster than bunny rabbits in the spring.

Paper seems to be the biggest culprit. I have stacks of to do lists, junk mail, bills, memorabilia, computer printouts, homework to sign, and magazines to read. Toys come in a close second. It’s not uncommon for me to find one of Monkey Boy’s toys on the kitchen floor, in a pile of dirty laundry, or hanging out behind the toilet. (Eww.) Dirty socks would be the next item in line. I’m a mom of boys. I expect dirty socks. If there weren’t dirty socks on the floor, I’d have to question whether or not my kids were feeling well. (As in, “You picked up your socks! Who ARE you, and what have you done with my SON?”)

But, I digress. Clutter happens. I can complain until the cows come home, but I’ll always have clutter. Therefore, I’m saving my complaints for the truly nasty stuff, like stripping wallpaper. What a mess! Monkey Boy put a hole in the wall, and when I went to strip the paper off, the sheetrock started chipping away even more. I definitely have my work cut out for me.

Anyone want to come help a desperate American down on her luck? I’m not beyond bribery here. I’ll even make it worth your while with another “C” word…CHOCOLATE!

A little back-breaking labor for a pan of brownies…whaddya say?

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Darth Drool

OK, whose idea was it to allow people to catch colds in June?! I have trouble enough sleeping already, but now I’m breathing through my mouth, too. I can only imagine how attractive that looks at night. There I am, nestled, all snug in my bed, but without the visions of sugarplums. More like puddles of drool.

To top it all off, I wear a night guard in my mouth to prevent grinding my teeth all night long. What my poor husband must listen to all night…

SNIFF! Dribble dribble dribble. CHOMP, grind-grind-grind. Mmmph-slurp!

I suppose it could be worse. I could be wearing my CPAP mask, too. Then I’d sound like Darth Vader with a cold. SSSSSS-HUHHHHH. I wonder if Vader drools? That must make an awful mess inside that mask.

Deep thoughts.

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