It’s been one of those weeks. I have lost everything at least once, and numerous things multiple times. Yet another cell phone went awol. I’ve got seven pair of scissors, and none of them can be located. Either when I’m shopping I’m convinced I’m experiencing a scotch tape shortage, or those little plaid devils are mating in dark corners. I’ve got 9 of them. Of course when I’m ready to actually wrap things and tape them, they’ll all be off in Vegas hitting the slot machines. I wouldn’t mind at all, if only they’d take me with them. Then there are my eyeglasses. Last night I left them at a restaurant. My husband was delighted to turn around and drive back to get them. I’ll fix him, I’ll yank the covers off him tonight in bed, wind them around me and pretend to be asleep. Just to see if he’s brave enough to wake me up to get them back, or if he’ll get up for another blanket. Losing things obviously makes me mean.
Seen on a T shirt; “I’m out of estrogen and I’ve got a gun” Of course that’s an old T shirt. These days it would get one arrested for sexually based terrorism or something.
Nighty night ladies!
Thanks for writing such an fascinating post. I seem to read the same and it gets a bit old. Many thanks.
Hey Ira
Thanks for the positive feedback, it’s always nice to know some one is out there. You didn’t happen to find my light blue sweater, did you?