Benji put poopy bum-prints on the carpet. Hooray.
Caleb accidentally threw the contents of a full cup of tomato juice across the family room. Yippee.
I decided I will NEVER live in a house with carpet again. Ever. Never ever. And if I buy a house, I'll rip the carpets out and throw them away and live on bare concrete rather than deal with carpets. No matter how much you vacuum, it's never clean (if you don't believe me, pull up your carpet and pad and check out what's lurking underneath.....). And it is a nightmare to clean when kid messes hit it (like vomit. Or blood. Or leaky diapers. Or food. Or spilled bubbles. Or marker. Or paints. or....) I HATE carpet. Worst invention EVER.
Harvesting grapes (we had a huge crop this year) by myself just after dawn after the kids have gone to bed. Heavenly. Until I broke out in hives wherever the grape vines scraped against my skin. And then started into an asthma attack. Benadryl took care of that, but not the hives, which, 5 days later, are still insanely itchy but have resolved themselves into little patches of clustered blisters. Apparently my skin thought I was harvesting poison ivy. Hooray.
And, since I now can't touch the grape vines, I'm watching the skeletonizer moth larvae skeletonizing the leaves, leaving the vines bare. I'm afraid they're going to die. Great.
Did I mention it's hot?
Oh, and the power went out for 2 1/2 hours during the hottest time of day yesterday. So...we had a nice visit to the library. (The upside of this is I got to re-set the open windows and found a better arrangement for the swamp cooler, so the house is now cooler than before. 80 degrees. Now.)
Baby is fussy. Fussy. Yup, still fussy. Teething, methinks.
Does home made scones with honey butter count for dinner? I made a real dinner, but the kids were too interested in the honeybutter to eat anything else.
So now they're fussy, too.
Starter in the car started going. Or, rather, stopped going. Well, it's rather inconsistent of late. Sometimes we go and sometimes we don't.
Rent is uncharacteristically late. (Landlady is a gem, though, and waived the late fee!)
Despite the landlady's generosity, I feel compelled to start packing, and I've learned over the years that if I don't obey that prompting, I regret it. Have any boxes? I know I do somewhere around here.....under the disastrous mess we call a house.....
Any wonder I didn't get any schooling or much writing done this week?
So, dare I ask what's next?