It's cold. I have coffee. The kids have a snow day because, as my son so astutely observed, "it's no out there." He apparently indiscriminantly doesn't have an "s" at the beginning of his words, which is unfortunate, since his name is Sam.
He also is having issues with "r" in the middle of words, which means that Percy, one of his favorite trains on the island of Sodor, becomes "Pussy." Which is hysterically funny that a two year old is running around saying "I like Pussy, Mommy." To which his grandfather replied, "well, at least he's starting early." Well, there's an image I didn't need. But given the indiscriminate "s" dropping, "Pussy" actually sounds more like "Puthy." Really, it's amazing we understand the little guy at all.
My house is sticky. Every single surface I touch seems to pull back. I'm not a dirty person. I might be a slightly messy person (in that I can't control the clutter that is EMANATING from every room and closet in my abode), but I've never stood for being a dirty person. But I moved the coffee maker this morning and... ewww. Grey stuff that didn't easily wipe up, even with Lysol and repeated scrubbing. I handed my son a cup of yogurt out of the fridge this morning and on the bottom of the cup... eeewww. I closed the silverware drawer after retrieving a spoon to stir my coffee and my hand grazed the underside of the counter... eeewww. I wipe the counters about twelve times a day. Guess it's time to give the fridge interior a scrub down. Just what I wanted to do on a "no day." Add it to the list. And I won't even begin about the crumbs. Maybe I need to find a cleaner.
Or maybe I need to buck up and do it myself. We'll see about that.
