Only 22 pages into Over the Edge: Death in Grand Canyon, and I’m already beyond amazed at the stupidity/ignorance/cluelessness? of people. And there’s still another 345 pages to go.
My gentleness is not for your taking. — n.t. (via thatkindofwoman)
One guess who actually ended up cleaning up most of the mess tonight.
Hint: it was me. I did.
Also, I know I shouldn’t feel bad because I can’t help it that I am supposed to stay off my feet today, but I do feel a tiny bit bad for D because he’s about to find out how much work goes into end of the day cleanup (dinner and Bug’s path of destruction through the living room) on top of solo bedtime.
I mean, I think I probably make it look fairly easy (even though I do moan and groan about it sometimes) because I do it all the time and I’m used it and I know how to speed the process along, so I don’t think he realizes just how much I pick up after the two of them. He’s in for a rude awakening.
Everything is fine, but…
it kind of sucks to have your vacationing parents here for less than one day before you have to rush to the ER in the middle of the night because your uterus is being an asshole and then have to be on serious business pelvic rest for the next two weeks. It makes you feel the opposite of fun, really.
For someone else’s comfort -
Do not become small
For people who refuse to grow. — m.v., Advice to my future daughter, #2. (via pnko)
For dinner, we had cheeseburgers made of steak and bacon (ground by my dad who, BTW, brought his own damn meat grinder on vacation because he is awesome), and now I’m dipping kettle chips into a Frosty. Basically, the past 3 hours have been the stuff that my food dreams are made of*.
*not counting crab and/or lobster rolls, which would be food fucking heaven right now