I've spent more time away from my house in the last three days since I "moved home" than I have there.
My room is a federally declared disaster zone. I spent the last three days looking for my bobby pins. I think they've been swallowed.
I got to choose whatever I wanted at the grocery store to eat and I didn't have to pay for it. Lovely. And spoiled.
I laid down to go to bed Saturday and sighed with delight. Has my mattress always been this comfortable? Spending a year sleeping on an Elms' one sure has made me appreciate a good mattress.
I get to shower with a fleet of pirates courtesy of grandkid bath time.
I'm pretty sure I'll develop a hernia. (okay, okay I'm not going to develop a hernia. It just felt like I would on Saturday). Between moving 1/2 my stuff Friday to my car and then to my house and then doing the same on Saturday and hauling bag after bag of trash from our apartment, I am TIRED of moving things. This is where I lament about the fact that I am a muggle. Bummer.
Back at ma maison,
M
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