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?
3 comments:
Yuck! I am so sorry you had to deal with that. I feel like I am constantly working on laundry also. But when I think of you with one more child and all the stairs you have to climb my pile and 1600 sq ft house doesn't seem so bad.
Tell your mom that she is more than welcome to read my blogs if she so desires. I love to read her point of view, she is always so encouraging.
Ah. The power of pressure. This just demonstrates that every day is not poetic. Unless of course one considers that disburbia in suburbia has its own type of poetry. I love your honesty.
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