The list of things I've not accomplished is longer than the the items on the accomplished list.

Sad.

Very sad indeed.

Made discovery that when stupid dog carried around retainers in her mouth (yes, I still wear retainers to bed) she didn't just carry them.

She relished them - relishing part of the resin right off the left side of the bottom one. I realize, you may not entirely be interested in where exactly she managed to screw me royally, but when I start biting my tongue, all the time, because my bite doesn't match up? And my lip is bleeding, totally distracting you from trying to figure out what I'm saying because I'm also not supposed to use my jaw?

I'm quite sure then you'll want to know.

I'd have to tell you: Fucker Up and Shoot Me had struck again.

On the plus side, there are things that got done...the Looming Laundry in my bedroom hallway? If you can get past that, keeping eyes firmly ahead, ignoring any brightly colored garment screaming for your attention, you'll end up in the cleanest room in my house: my master bathroom.

That's right.

The room no one but me goes in.

Sort of pointless then, to go through the hassle of cleaning everything without an audience to admire it; then again, it does give me a place to hide from the Looming Laundry fighting for space in the hall. I ran 6 loads through already. I even folded them. Another pointless act - I had to move them to the chair in the living room - yes, the modern art sculpture rose again - because where does one usually fold clothes?

That's right.

On. The. Bed.

Six loads should have put a sizable dent in Looming Laundry.

Not so much. Laundry situation is less than ideal.

Fox gets bigger, his clothes take up more space, and he gets so sweaty at practice, games, bike riding, I swear he changes clothes more often than a fashion model. Then there's the pre-treating. He's asked me to stop getting his baseball pants quite so clean; I nearly agree with him - why bother when he'll dive bomb first plate at the earliest opportunity?

I gave some thought to disposable clothing.

Changed my mind when I stumbled upon Depends, that now come in colors and patterns. I find this shocking. Baby diapers don't come in colors and patterns; so why these? And aren't fewer people seeing them? A baby's backside is constantly on display; but an 80 year olds? I should sincerely hope not. I suppose, if one felt better donning a pair of pink Depends instead of boring ol' white ones, who am I to judge? Hell, I hardly even own any underwear anymore, now that Pucker learned how to scale the side of the tub, tippy-toe over to the edge of the second sink (aka hamper for her favorite items) to help herself.

Right after she realized she could knock down the baby gates that I was too busy (or lazy, whatever) to secure into the wall.

Perhaps I'm the one needing disposable underpinnings.

Might even be cheaper.

Less comfy.

Would spend more time in soothingly clean master bath.

Hmmmmmm.

I'll have to put that on my To Do list.