Here is my story.

I was walking around at U-Village today, with the intention of loitering at the Giant Bookstore of Doom with the new issues of Cook’s Illustrated and EW. I was not going to work this morning, or even pretend to work, which it should be noted I am really, really good at. Sometimes, while pretending to work, I even produce things that look like work, but may actually not be. Don’t count on the pretend work to substitute for, say, passenger-side airbags.

I walked by the playstructure hoo-ha thing at the mall, and it was crawling with toddlers. Toddlers be-binkied, todders crying, toddlers with mothers with Snuglis bearing Future Toddlers (lovesounds) and I knew my toddler was safely socked away at her school and I had the most intense sensation when I saw all those little temporarily-dressed feral dwarfs: I felt my uterus crumple up and turn into dust. It then, of course, fell out of my body. As it turns out, my uterus dust is puce-colored, and looks like it has a little mica in it, which will help you effortlessly transition from work to evening.

Then I came home and my kid decided to shit up the place, starting with her pants. Maybe I should be happy that so far, my little kid doesn’t seem to be a rocket vomiter like the big one, but it’s early in the game. But she has pooped so much I think I need to keep her home tomorrow. I remember last month, when colds seemed like a lifetime away.

Now I am eating my lunch, and am convinced there there is poop everywhere. On my hands, floating through the air. The big one has a sore throat. Am I going to have both of them home tomorrow, listlessly fighting with each other and making me wish I had opted for a purse dog instead? Seems likely.

There is a giant-assed garden spider outside the window that is so giant it is capturing those taco-sized moths. This should make enemies of moths happy.

In Other News

It’s been an interesting week. I keep having that feeling that I am about to be crushed by the hand of god or something, and my breathing’s not working quite right. Sometimes my hands shake. And then I remember: OH YEAS, my old friend anxiety. I remember you from grad school. I am having weird nightmares about creepy people.

I squeezed into my Italian motorcycle jacket and that didn’t even cheer me up. I paraded my increasing waistliness to Companion, and he said, “Oh yeah? I have gained ten pounds,” and did something that was eerily reminiscent of the Truffle Shuffle. (After watching that, I have to call foul, hoho, on a family that keeps a chicken for the express purposes of opening a gate. WHERE R U PETARDS?) I think Companion and I are just transferring weight around. He is trying to lose weight now and where will it land? I vote “the cat.”

In Other Other News

“What did you do at school today?”

“I do puzzle.”

“What else did you do with the rest of the three hours?”

“I do TWO puzzles.”