Today, Anderson joined the four-eyes club. He is OK with this so far, but did ask me how long he'd have to wear them. I did not deftly dodge that one, instead choosing to stumble and falter, as is my way: "well, you know, like probably maybe forever?" Ah, well. Many of the frames wouldn't work because his eyelashes were too long and it made it look like he had spiders on his eyeballs.
When we got back from this whole adventure, the power was out, and it stayed out all day long, thanks to some asshole tree that fell down right at the entrance to our neighborhood, creating mass confusion among the elderly and teens who ramble around up in here during the day.
I was only slightly satisfied when the kid who cut in front of me at the four way stop turning off our road narrowly avoided slamming into the back of a Duke Energy truck when he tried to go around it only to encounter a Gray-Hair (that's what I'm calling them now) driven Cadillac turtle-crawling up the hill in the other direction. Apparently, seniors do rule, as per the shaving cream message on the little line-cutter's back window.
At least something was happening around here. It's usually so boring an occasional squirrel will commit suicide-by-school-bus when he realizes it's not going to get any better than the near-constant buzz of wood chippers occasionally punctuated by the swishing of a hot pink (garbage bag?) running suit on an 80-year-old power walker.
I'm still recombobulating after being away for the aforementioned-in-great-excess Erma Bombeck workshop, but I have big plans. Big plans, I say.
Big plans that I will start on tomorrow. ish.
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