I am going to do an A to Z Encyclopedia of Me at the urging of my mother. She is doing one on her blog.
I tried to think of something more interesting for A but all I can think of is all the laundry that awaits me. Laundry to pick up in bedrooms and bathrooms, laundry to carry down to the basement, laundry to sort, laundry to check for stains, laundry to wash, laundry to fold, laundry to carry upstairs, laundry to put away . . . .
Yesterday, when I was sorting through my huge pile in the basement I found two dead baby mice amongst the clothes. Yes. We had found two live baby mice the day before. Apparently all were orphaned by a mouse we caught in the pantry. It was disturbing in many ways. Sam was sad because the babies had no mama. Against my wishes, Chad indulged him and let him care for the live ones until they died later that day. Sam experienced closure that way so it was actually good. I felt like I was in some sick suburbian version of the Godfather coming across those dead ones in the laundry.
It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you, right?