Sunday already

I am feeling kinda… twitchy.

Volumes one and two of 3,214

It’s almost 10am on Sunday already and I still have WAY too much crap to do. I didn’t get much done yesterday because Princess Punk was being completely unhelpful as I was trying to stack wood for my parents and I was therefore able to work about an hour before I had to stop and tend to the screaming Peach. And of course, since we were at my parents’ for the majority of the day yesterday, I got absolutely nothing done at home. Princess Punk spent the night with my folks since she went to some kind of outdoor orchestral concert thingy. And so this morning, I’ve been alternately bustling about trying to do something, anything at all while trying to keep The Peach from emitting her angry squeal which will quickly degenerate into a furious screech and then a downright, purple-faced, chin-quivering howl.

I have not accomplished much.

The Princess just ran in and grabbed The Peach to go to church. I then had to halt everything and frantically pack a diaper bag since hers was at my folks place. Which I could have told them if my father had actually called me as I had asked to say that yes, they were going to get The Peach. So they headed out and had gotten a bit down the street already when I noticed The’ Peach’s binky, laying in the center of my freshly made bed, a drop of pink and white in a sea of navy blue.  I knew they didn’t have time to turn around and come get it since my dad tends to give himself about 3 seconds leeway when trying to get somewhere. So I sent a text message to The Princess to warn her. I’m guessing church is not going to go well this morning. No burp cloths either. Oh well, c’est la vie.

So I’m writing this as I wait for my second round of caffeine to kick in so I can get down to some serious cleaning, laundry and kitchen duties that The Princess was supposed to do but wiggled out of since she wasn’t actually here last night. I’d normally wait for her to get home and let her deal with it but being summertime and having shitty seals on our windows, we are host to an ever-growing family of fruit flies and the last thing I want to do is give them a dirty kitchen in which to have a raucous orgy that would result in even more fruit flies. Some of them drowned themselves in my wine the other night, undoubtedly after doing all kinds of dirty, fruit fly sex acts that caused them to feel ashamed and suicidal. My WINE goddamit… Almost as bad as my coffee!

Time to get to work… Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post, I finally have some potentially good news!

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