I really don’t want to rehash the whole election thing, since that’s what all the news outlets and politically-minded bloggers are doing today. Suffice it to say that in some cases, my guy won, and in other cases, my guy lost. And suddenly the airwaves are eerily quiet.
My stomach continues to dictate that I eat the blandest foods imaginable. Yay for baked potatoes.
I have lost five pounds. Not how I would have preferred to lose five pounds, but in this day and age I’ll take my victories wherever I can get them.
The cats still have fleas. Another $40 round of chichi flea drops, followed by a rubdown with cheap-o flea spray and a thorough combing, and I think the tide may be turning in my favor. The cats can’t decide if I love them or hate them, what with the wetting and the combing and the rubbing and cooing.
We have, however, added ants to our list of woes at Chez Mox. It happens every year when I bring the plants back into the house, but this year it seems like there are many more than usual. I don’t ordinarily see them drilling the parade field in formation.
While I don’t usually walk around thinking that I am at the top of my game, being sick these past couple of days has served to highlight just exactly how well-pulled-together I actually am. You know, from the standpoint of contrast. When you’re cozied up on the couch with the phone and the TV remote and you let everything else in the house go to pot, it’s quite amazing how fast things fall apart. I am doing something right, though, because yesterday morning Spawn took one look at me and proceeded to get dressed, make the bed, make breakfast, and get ready to go without my ever saying a word. I was pretty proud of the kid for taking some initiative and responsibility, even if it was out of pity for me.
Which is not to say, however, that I will be winning any awards for my mad parenting skillz. Or for cohesive post narrative.
I feel a nap coming on.
– Mox
