Homemade caramels and divinity, variety box of king size candy bars, left over Halloween candy, (OK, actually not technically left over, but more of, oh, let's say borrowed from a nine year old in a BOY football costume, which made her mother mad, so she deserved to lose a few treats) Lays potato chips, Trix cereal, fridge full of cold Dr. Pepper, Pumpkin spice egg-nog and Lisa. (Even my garbage disposal would have regurgitated.)
Migraine headaches and Fast Sunday. (Angry eyes and ibuprofin on an empty stomach~but it certainly had no connection to the first paragraph.)
Leisure time and teenage boys. (Giant cardboard mustache on giant storefront woman's face, anyone? In fact, let's make sure it gets posted on FACEBOOK for an entire community to witness. Oh, my sides are aching from the joyous laughter.)
A captive audience (stay-at-home-mother) and nine year old daughter. (Imagine me gnawing my foot off to get out of the trap.)
Ivory fur cats out all night without front claws. (Think pasty white business man~wearing a Rolex~lost and asking for directions in a "chilling" neighborhood. I was going to say ghetto, but that's probably not PC, and I live for PC.)
Boxes and boxes of decorations to be put away and exchanged for even more boxes and boxes of decorations and no pressure on the homemaker in charge to do it within a certain time frame. Like, no shower hosting, no seasonal party, no impending visitors, NOTHING, PEOPLE. (Basically, she (I) can't be trusted to be a self-motivator and really, really needs someone to threaten an unannounced visit to give her (me) an adrenaline rush, which will actually only send her (me) fleeing wild-eyed into the garage to deep clean, just in case the visitors want a tour of where we park the cars, rather than tend to the pressing task of said BOXES AND BOXES and rotting pumpkin corpses. Like I (she) said, she (I) can't be trusted.)
Anyway, all of these disasters occurred over the last few days here in this household.
I'm just wandering around in a stupor, holding my cone wearing cat as she tries to lick and re-infect her open wounds.
I scratch her ears for her every few minutes and continue wandering. If you see me in my nightgown and flying-nun hair mid-way down the street, you'll know I've wandered too far.
Please, just turn me around and head me back in the direction of home.