We are getting ready to put our house on the market and an unpleasant side effect is that I now hate everyone. The realtor is coming this week to take photos to put on the website so I’ve been busting balls to get the place looking less like a flop house and more like something someone would want to buy instead of shoot up in. You don’t realize how filthy your family is until your home is about to be judged by everyone on the internet. I now realize that my kids all have fingerprints and my husband wears shoes and the dogs have hair and I wear clothes. These are the reasons I hate. And I am almost ready to punch the dog… because he is licking his pecker like he doesn’t have a care in the world and I can SEE the hair being magnetically pulled from his body and statically clung to the couch behind him . Everyone must contribute to making this house look its best… even the dogs.
It’s okay to be jealous.
I think he was itching his scaly forehead on my face (yeah, guess Clarisonic doesn’t cure cradle cap). Felt good. Felt right. Felt… Kinda abrasive (and oddly damp).
I also have a husband who documents the precious moments…
My life, you guys… My life…
I killed it. I loved it and I killed it.
I don’t even know what happened so I’m going to re-trace my steps in an attempt to figure out how it all went wrong for poor Basil here.
It was a beautiful sunny day. I became convinced spring was upon us so I swaddled up the baby and went out on an adventure… to Wal-mart. This is a reoccurring trope in my life. It seems that all things that happen to me begin, end or somehow involve a trip to Wal-mart. This is a scary realization.