We had another shredding party tonight. The children are fascinated with the shredder and I'm happy to let them do all the work. I know eventually they will get tired of it, but maybe we will get through the box by then, or at least most of it before they figure out that shredding can be a chore.
Will someone please explain to me why I have the song "Old Dan Tucker" running through my head? I haven't heard it in years and I don't even know all the lyrics. I had to look them up because it's driving me crazy to have the tune in my head and not know the words. Also, in my head, it's inexplicably sung by Loretta Lynn. I'm losing it. I must be. Maybe I've already lost it and I don't know it. Husband is going to come home and I will be a crazy lady with leaves in her hair running around in a nightgown singing folk music. I'll have to buy a nightgown first, though. Crazy women wear flannel nightgowns and I don't have one. I refuse to be a lunatic who is not dressed for the part.
This man from Atlanta is having a worse day than me.
I know, you are thinking, that he looks very normal. Except see that non-descript beige milky drink in his glass? That's his dinner. And breakfast. And lunch. He decided that shopping and cooking were too much trouble, so he invented a