If I had a chicken I wouldn't have to go to the store this morning and buy eggs. I could just send my little ranch hand out to gather the eggs and then I'd have something with which to make breakfast sandwiches which everyone residing in my house has a craving for. Also, to make cookies which is the logical thing to do when you have two giant bags full of cookies on your counter. It's the holidays. We make cookies until we toss 'em. If our collection gets under 200 or so, we start to panic.
Will someone mail me a hen, please? A little red one, one that preferably will grind wheat and make me homemade bread when she's not popping out eggs. That'd be great, guys, thanks for taking care of me.
I discovered another Murphy's Law of Parenting:
#4876: sweeping your entire house will ensure that a small being will have a jonesing for burnt toast. Burnt toast that they will cart all over the just swept house, leaving behind a trail of breadcrumbs for their mother to find. No wonder Hansel and Gretel's mom had had enough. At the end of every mother's rope, you find a trail of telltale crumbs. I sympathize with Hansel and Gretel's mother - we'll call her Linda. Linda and I would be pals. We'd sip margaritas in the back yard while our children wander off in the woods to eat the neighbor's houses.
I love the word telltale. We don't use it enough. I smiled when typing it.
I don't actually have a theme to blog about today (or is it a meme? Is that the term? I don't know. I'm not a real blogger, I just play one on blogger.com). I just need to keep my fingers from falling asleep because I woke up at 2 a.m. with a sore throat and a bout of frenzied brain activity and decided to glug half a bottle of Nyquil. So when Moose was soft shoeing on my face at 8 a.m. I was forced to get up. And discover the lack of eggs and fresh cookies. Which was depressing. But only mildly, because Nyquil has antidepressant powers. I think. Or maybe it just dulls your mind so much you don't realize how depressed you are or how your throat still hurts or your feet have grown another Hobbit size or how you haven't done any Christmas shopping yet. It's like Forget Juice mixed with some Relax Nectar and followed by a shot of Sleepy Water.
In spite of that and the fact that I probably should not be operating machinery like a minivan, I really need to make myself presentable and go buy eggs. And gifts for upteen people. If this post confuses you it's due to the haze of Nyquil fumes I am currently under, and it's okay if you don't get me. Linda is the only one who really gets me anyway.