Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Do. Not. Type. It.
Because if I do…it may end.
It may stop.
I may have to move. I may have to get up. I may have to..like do something.
And right now? Right this very minute? I’m not doing a damn thing.
Oh could this be a sign? Could it be a small sliver of light I see at the end of this baby, toddler, diaper, crap, whiny, never ending ‘doing’ tunnel?
Ok nope. They are still sleeping. And I’m gonna go back to doing nothing.
Right after I grab my chardonnay- with club soda and ice-cause then it’s quite proper to drink at this time of day, right?
Ah hell, who cares. I’m doing nothing and that’s a reason to celebrate. Screw watering it down with ice and whatnot.