Blah blah SALLY blah blah blah
2005-05-27, 3:27 p.m.

2:27pm, here I be, too tired to do anything, but since I have to leave in 20 minutes to get Son from school, there�s not enough time for a nap. At the yard sale this morning, I made 50 cents (one shirt, rah) while Daughter made $10 (remote control plane, book) AND a crapload of babysitting loot. I didn�t have much to contribute to the sale except a few bits of clothing, but Daughter tossed in some books, toys, and Spice Girls tapes. Maybe those will sell tomorrow. I could label a bin �Soft Core Porn� and throw in the Spice Girls and see what happens, there�s a Britney tape to chuck in there too. Truth in advertising and all that.

Soft core porn. I smell Google hits.

You know what stings? When you put your belongings in a yard sale and none of it sells. Confirmation that yes, you truly do suck. I sold one shirt, so my suckometer rating today stands at 99%. There is the lone comforting fact that nothing I own says NASC@R, that stuff around here elicits a feeding frenzy.

Daughter is snoozing on her bed, totally whipped by a 2-year old and a 5-year old. I told her, welcome to the wonderful world of motherhood, now she has a tiny taste of what she and her brother have done to me for over a decade. She looked shocked and sympathetic, but vowed that someday her child would be an only child, because she would not be able to tolerate two. In her words, she �wouldn�t put up with the fisty fights� that she and her brother have. Well darlin�, then WHY DO IT? All she had to do this morning was supervise, play a little, and change the occasional diaper, nothing of any real consequence�yet. I am sooooo going to enjoy all the eye-openings that babysitting will afford her.

I did not sleep last night. Hubby has sleep apnea and uses a cpap machine, one of the greatest inventions EVER, because it alleviates his snoring and also my fear each morning of awakening next to a dearly departed. Last night, just before bed, we had a bored Pomeranian who hid behind our bed and made a nice rubbery snack of Hubby�s cpap mask and a few lengths of duct tape. The dog sat on our bed while Hubby ranted and raved at him (blah blah blah SPUNKY blah SPUNKY blah blah blah), blinked at Hubby a few times, and belched. So, all night long Hubby alternated between horrible ratchety sinus music and dead silence, of which the silence is worse. I couldn�t sleep during the snoring, and spent his intermissions elbowing him in the side to be sure he was breathing.

I. Am. Tired.

Today Hubby gets to spent $100 or so on a new mask. Spunky was kind enough to do this on a holiday weekend, to add to the excitement.

Blah blah SPUNKY blah SPUNKY blah blah blah. Good boy.

********************************

OK, got Son, who is behind me swinging a gerbil cat toy by the tail and dropping pearls of wisdom: �Mom, don�t do this to a real gerbil.� I�ll try to remember that.

A neighbor down the street has her house for sale. She doesn�t, but her husband does. Someone is building on the lot next to them, a bit too closely, so with neither warning nor discussion her husband spiked a For Sale By Owner sign in their front yard last night. She�s a tad upset. If he�s not going to be a marital team player, then she needs to do some strategizing of her own. The word �Bobbitize� comes to mind.

(More Google hits.)

I�d be glad to help her.

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