you can't make it up
It's nine thirty in the morning, I've been up since five, and there are potatoes in my washing machine.
I'd ask to start the day again except that it might be something worse. In between rearranging the kitchen, Cub keeps demanding I read to him and then throwing the book away in disgust when it turns out to be the wrong book, and then demanding another one. I'm not sure the right book even exists.
At least I noticed the potatoes before I turned it on. Apparently the child lock on the washing machine isn't as good as I thought.
Crossposted at http://philomytha.dreamwidth.org/127985.html. There are
comments there.
I'd ask to start the day again except that it might be something worse. In between rearranging the kitchen, Cub keeps demanding I read to him and then throwing the book away in disgust when it turns out to be the wrong book, and then demanding another one. I'm not sure the right book even exists.
At least I noticed the potatoes before I turned it on. Apparently the child lock on the washing machine isn't as good as I thought.
Crossposted at http://philomytha.dreamwidth.org/127985.html. There are
comments there.