* I knew for certain Mr X was home when I slammed my toes into the bottom of his suitcase and collapsed in a puddle of throbbing pain on the floor. And for the second time this year, I have broken my baby toe and possibly the one right next to it.
I have managed to fit the fact that he injured my poor defenseless toes (and yes, I am blaming him because it's more fun that way) into nearly every conversation.
I know I've said in the past about what a baby my husband can be when he gets sick, but what I never admitted (as if it wasn't already painfully clear) is that I am a giant whiney baby when it comes to pain.
*Despite not playing since I was a child and my siblings finally refused to play with me anymore, I managed to completely annihilate my husband while playing the Connect Four game he brought home for Girl X. Many many times. To the point that I think he may refuse to play against me ever again. Or maybe because I told him that it's what he gets for breaking my toe. Beyotch!
*The freakin' moles are back. I'm a little scared of them now. Nothing kills these things. I think it's time to sign whatever occupation order they want and like, maybe give them the shed. The garage. Our house. Whatever they want as long as they promise not to eat us for dinner and yes I am so very sorry about that whole flooding incident and the poison and the flares.
*Upon checking out 6 books on how to make your child sleep (dammit) the librarian looked at me, took in my baggy red eyes and said 'Good luck.'
Too which I replied, "I already them. This is so when he wakes up for the 7th time in a row, I can just smack myself over the head and knock myself unconscious."
She was not amused. And I? Not kidding.
*My toes hurt.
*Mr X proved his love for me by going to see MI3 while he was in Arizona. It means that I won't have to sit through it when it comes out on DVD. Because really? I would rather take my MIL shopping than sit through that movie.
*I am dreading Friday night. I have to interact with actual people at my daughter's school. During a sugar high, I answered the phone and because I hate the phone? I agreed to work the reception desk at her school's silent auction and make 2 cakes for the event.
With any luck I'll get a nasty case of laryngitis and won't be able to say anything stupid. Because if I can talk? I'll say something stupid.
Probably something like my toes hurt.