perhaps it is a sign of the apocolypse.

today, i spent the better part of my life cleaning out BC’s room and washing the wood floor in her future room (AKA our former office, which is currently residing in my living room.) it is, hands down, the dustiest place on planet earth. BC will probably require claritin, administered by IV, once i’m through with the place. she has apparently inherited the worst of both my packrat and BS’s packrat tendencies. i mean, the girl has a bottle cap collection. i ask you.

anyway, when hellboy took a nap, BS settled down for a nap, too. i mostly kept on going, though (i finally stopped for a bit toward the end. my lungs can hardly stand it, y’know.) so first, when everyone awoke around 3, BS took both kids outside to play with these obnoxious balloons that make a loud siren sound as they land on your neighbor’s tree or your own roof (both true, apparently). the kids loved it. then, when BC’s pal lia called for a play date at 4, he said he would not only take her there, but he would take hellboy with him to the barber for a haircut. hellboy may end up with no hair after this barber visit and may curse me for years to come, but i am getting a break. a b r e a k, i tell you.

so i’m thinking the world is probably going to end sometime soon, as this sort of thing seldom happens. in the meantime, though, BS is my hero.

give him his props, as those hep cats would say.

my windows are wide open right now. there’s a tornado watch and thunderstorm warning and big ole wind gusts happening at the moment. and yet, i laugh at danger and welcome the fresh air in. why? because my kitchen currently smells like a frat house the day after a huge bash. oh, that, plus some lemony-fresh ammonia, which i used to wash the damn floor.

it’s the smell of an evil, poisonous shandy.

now, why, you might ask, is my house so odiforous that i am probably taking years off my life or at least giving myself some weird, kooky contact high? well, you see. we don’t drink a whole lot in this house. it isn’t like we’re opposed; in fact, we like indy-brewed beers, and me, i like a nice aussie shi-razzz, as i pronounce it. we just don’t get a big chance to drink all that much. i mean, BS spent the weekend doing painting and other major house-y tasks, and while i found one emptied bottle of beer in the recycling, i found an entire six pack of yoohoo lite. that pretty much sums us up in a nutshell.

but the remainder of said beer and other assorted bottled drinks was perched precariously atop our fridge. so this morning, when a certain someone who was half-asleep (we won’t mention names, i’ll just look at the party and whistle) vigorously opened the freezer door, the entire six-pack crashed to the kitchen floor. glass and beer were everywhere. there was much gnashing of teeth. it was not a pretty scene.

so here i was, ready to tackle the world today. and instead, i am burning cycles trying to pick up all the teeny shards and tyring to keep my house from stinkin’ like Plank Road.