Showing posts with label a lame bid for attention. Show all posts

. . . you don’t worry about cleaning the tub since your kid is just going to get it dirty when he bathes

. . . you rate cooking right up there with having a root canal or a weekend at Aunt Mabel’s and her 39 cats

. . . . you find solace in piles of unfolded laundry (yum, soft and sweet smelling!)

. . . you find furry things in your fridge and just shut the door

. . . you smell a strange odor but don’t know where it’s coming from

. . . you smell a strange odor and don’t care where it’s coming from

. . . it’s been so long since you went shopping you are forced to switch the AA batteries from the TV remote to the VCR remote and vice versa every time you want to pause your DVD or turn up the volume (a common procedure amongst us oldsters)

. . . you would rather spend time rearranging the décor on your mantle than clean the house for the party looming in the near future

. . . you don't even feel like blogging and post a pathetic rerun in hopes nobody will notice.