To say the last couple months have been a bit crazy in this household
would be a massive understatement.
I think "demented", "deranged", possibly "of unsound mind" would fit our situation better.
WHO starts a basement?
And a garden?
And a bedroom?
Well, we do, DUH!
Because we are insane! Because we have lost contact with the mothership! Our slinkys are kinked! We played football without a helmet! We fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down!
And so forth.
Full out ape crap.
I'm talkin', up at the butt crack 'o dawn, jumping into pants, both legs at a time, and hitting the ground running on Saturdays,
up until 1:00 a.m., on weeknights, people.
1:00 a.to the freakin' m. Workin' side by side, asking "are you done with the saw yet?" and "Can I finally take the drill?"
Burnin' the candle on both ends.
We need two drills.
So, why were our pants on fire?
No freakin' idea.
And shouldn't a basement be like 5 steps??
Done.?. It was like 50 steps. No joke.
I'm gonna go out on a limb and suggest that perhaps domestic violence begins with a house renovating. It's fun and everything,
and then you go pick out carpet together, and BAM. Decapitation. Brass knuckles. Knife fights.
Well, at least a little bit of disharmony.
Yeah, it's been a couple productive months.
Buuuuuut. . . I think we need to take it down a notch, or two.
You know, for the good of the children.