I just sent my son upstairs for the rest of his life, or at least until supper, whichever comes first. Judging by my current mood, it's a toss up which will occur first. I tend to lose my appetite when I'm angry, which makes me wonder why I'm not down to 80 lbs by now.
Speaking of bodies . . .
From the "I Guess It Was Formica I Knocked On" file, I now am nursing a pinched nerve. As soon as I published the last post (on getting on with my life and leaving the body stuff to my body), I started to feel the beginnings of a pinched nerve. After a year of not feeling up to par, I have become a rather impatient patient.
Speaking of patience . . .
My house is a mess. Why is it that when I am feeling well enough to clean it, the mess doesn't bother me, but the moment I am not up to cleaning it, it is my fervent wish to do so?
Speaking of laziness . . .
I have the chance to enroll my son, the one upstairs for the rest of his life, in a little 2-hour lesson in harvesting sap from maple trees (to make into syrup) this Sunday. I have considered enrolling him, but am not sure he won't be mugging our two maples trees from now on. So I am leaning against it, yet feeling like a lazy mother for doing so.
Speaking more about laziness . . .
Remember the mudroom project? Me neither . . . except when I try to find something or pass through the family room (which now holds all the things evacuated from said mudroom), or do laundry.
And . . .
Do you think McDonald's Filet-O-Fish really qualify as a legitimate Lenten Friday meal? I don't. The other equal in my household does. I can only hold out so long. This is going on my List (the List St. Peter checks at the pearly gates), I know it, and suspect it is my husband's plan for getting away from me sometime before the here'after.
Speaking of real men . . .
Why haven't I ever seen a Robert Mitchum movie until now? And why aren't there more men like that in Hollywood anymore?
Speaking of movie mysteries . . .
Why is Leonardo DiCaprio slated to play Frank Sinatra in the long-awaited Scorsese film when it is quite obvious to me that Jude Law would make a much better "Ole Blue Eyes?" I guess this would go in the "If You Want Something Done Right" file.
Well, my husband has arrived home with a McDonald's bag the size of a shopping bag. Guess it's time to call my son down . . .