Just Keep Swimming

Nothing to see here.

I have no amusing anecdotes. No insightful observations. Not even a dirty limerick.

I could offer you a crudely drawn picture of a twister and a cow, compliments of my four-year-old? No?

Well, in that case, might I suggest that you find some witty, moving or interesting blogger to entertain you today - there are several in my sidebar that I'd recommend - 'cuz I got nothin'.

Because the ZenMom is just up to her ass in alligators this week and just can't spare any energy for blogging.

And even if I did have the energy, you wouldn't be interested in reading about the kind of stuff on my mind lately. It's pretty damn boring.

I mean, really, do you want to hear about how my co-workers are systematically trying to drive me insane? (Seriously, if you come to me for direction and then do the exact opposite of what I recommend, how much freakin' sympathy do you think I'm going to have for you when you come back to me holding your cocked-up project in your hand like a kid with a dead bird asking me to "fix it"?)

Or about how we've been fighting an algae infection in my pool that's so bad the kids have started calling it "Shrek's Swamp"?

Or about how the door handle to the kid's room got broken and the door got stuck closed and the ZenHusband finally had to break in through the window and cut the handle off with Skill Saw to get it open?

Or about how my house has been under siege by an army of freakishly intelligent and fiendishly determined black ants all freaking summer?

Or about how I'm desperately looking for a new doctor because I think it is the height of absurdity to have to sit in a waiting room for two freaking hours just to spend 60 seconds with the doctor and then get a script for the same damned meds he gives me every freaking time I've gotten an upper respiratory infection for the last ten years, instead of him just calling the damn thing in every once in a while?

Or about how Minion 1 has suddenly outgrown all of his clothes and started peppering his speech with "dammit" and "freaking" (Yeah, that's all on me. Mom of the Year. Right here, baby.)

Or about how I'm stressing about Minion 1 starting kindergarten next ... OMG - It's only TWO WEEKS away?!?! And I how I'm still trying to get him into the school of my choice and don't yet know how that's going to work out? And might not know for sure until the day before school starts?

Or about how Minion 2 - who is apparently part mountain goat (on his father's side, I presume) - has started climbing up onto everything, including his brother's bunk bed, his clothes dresser, his bookshelf, the dining table, the back of the couch, the bathroom counter, and anything with wheels?

Or about how Minion 2 has decided to stop taking naps, and so by about 6 p.m. every night he's wound up like a rabid squirrel? On speed. In a race car. Inside of a tornado.

Or about how both of the Minions seem to have decided this week that dinner should be optional unless Mom and Dad serve as their personal short-order cooks? (Which, for the record, ain't gonna happen, folks.)

Or about how every time I sit down to write, some great catastrophe occurs - like a broken toy or a bruised knee or the ubiquitous cry of "Noooo, I had it fiiiiirst! Mommmmmmyyyyyyy!"

No? Not interested in any of that? Didn't think so.

Move along, then.

Come back next week and I shall endeavor to be witty and charming.

If you brought some wine back with you, that might help.