I will have roughly three glorious hours to clean my house. Do you have any idea how pathetic that is? To refer to house cleaning as glorious. Ugh. It’s bad people. So, so bad.
On Easter one of the girls (I’m looking at you, Tess) killed a rabbit. ON EASTER. Alas, unlike the Savior, the bunny did not rise again. There’s a rabbit (brother? cousin? BFF?) who lives in our neighbor’s yard. Said yard is separated from ours two fences and a drainage ditch my children refer to as “The Ravine.” The bunny spends its mornings loping back and forth along the fence line while the girls sit there, watching in rapt attention. It’s hilarious and a little unnerving. If that rabbit ever gets ballsy and heads over to our side of the fence line, Tess is gonna destroy it.
The city is doing curb repair on our street. By “repair” I mean that they’ve randomly picked sections of curb to rip out and replace, along with the ends of some people’s driveways (alas, not ours). Quite frankly, it looks like shit. The new sections direct one’s attention to how shabby the rest of the curbs look. I like continuity. They should look either all look like crap, or all be shiny and new.
We’re waiting until the very last-minute to turn our taxes in. We’re going to owe money for the first time since JP was born. It stings. Like, a whole fucking lot. And we don’t really have the finances to pay it because WE’RE BLEEDING MONEY TO A VARIETY OF HEALTH RELATED ISSUES. But it’s okay, I take comfort in knowing that people like Mitt Romney, (who, incidentally, makes my entire year’s salary in less than 9 minutes) have to pay a lot more than I do. Except they don’t. They have the money and knowledge to hide the bulk of their money in offshore accounts and don’t pay anywhere NEAR what people like us pay. Fuck you, rich people. I’ve got no problem with your abundant wealth but the fact that you do it at the expense of my family and my children (and other families like ours), it makes me want to spit nails. May you rot in jail for embezzlement and tax evasion. Assholes.
Ooh! This book: