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2005-09-27, 9:41 p.m.

Both Son and Daughter had to go to the doctor today. Daughter has strep throat. Son�s leg isn�t any better�no worse, but no better. Both children got antibiotics, but only Daughter got a free pass from school, much to Son�s chagrin. He�ll try to chew his leg off in the middle of the night so he can stay home tomorrow.

Son got off the school bus clutching his stomach, lurched up the front steps, and headed towards his bathroom. A few moments later he came into the office where I was using time productively by playing Snood on the computer and avoiding laundry.

�Mom, I know what was wrong with my stomach.

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A MASSIVE fart.�

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�Silent, but deadly.�

Thank you, Son, I needed that information. That will explain tomorrow�s crop of dead vermin directly underneath the bathroom floor. Not to mention the gaping hole in the linoleum.

Son brought me his little metal bank, which was about to self destruct due to the fat wad of birthday cash burning through it. Must. Be. Spent. I had to fill his prescription, so on the way we stopped at a used video game store. Son bought 2 games for himself, but purchased a third for his sister �to make her feel better�. He can be such a sweet child�massive farts notwithstanding.

Today I almost landed a little job, helping out a friend with her house a couple of mornings a week. Clean and organize for some much needed moola. Although I am rather busy these days, the lure of ready cash was powerful. One call to Hubby solved it all.

Me, on the phone with Mr. You-Must-Get-A-Job-Now-Or-We-Shall-Perish: �My friend wants to hire me to clean her house a couple of mornings a week.�

Hubby: �nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!�

You see, if I get a job, any job, he has to help more around the house. Last night he did the dishes, and you would think he had been forced into combat. He volunteered, he wasn�t drafted, but I had my doubts he would make it through without collapsing. The truth is out there�I am not going to work for awhile because HE. IS. SPOILED. Which is fine with me. I�m glad I have him to spoil. He can keep his Conscientious Objector status regarding housework for a little longer, and I doubt he will badger me about producing a salary for some time yet to come. He�s got a clue that the Laundry Fairy and the Magic Vacuum Fairy don�t flit about while he�s at work and I sleep in and eat bon bons and watch soap operas. Doesn�t quite work that way.

A house painting update:

One interesting thing about porch spindles. They lie dormant until painting season, at which time they mate and multiply exponentially. Over a single summer, one average front porch can grow to just under twelve million spindles, any of which will spontaneously rot. Hubby has toiled since June, an hour here, three hours there. He spent a few hours trimming the new end posts on Saturday morning, drilled the holes, and screwed the first one into the existing holes in the brick step. The end post split. Three bricks broke and fell off. Everything became airborne weapons of mass emotion, followed by a course of expletives, confirming our place as the reigning neighborhood rednecks. So now I�m getting estimates from home repair and paint pros, and the neighborhood children got a pro bono vocabulary lesson.

If you haven�t yet, pop over to biodtl and participate in the pithy discourse: Cannon vs. Barnaby Jones; Paul Lynde vs. Charles Nelson Reilly. Rouse some atrophied cerebral tissue and get it on with this Really Deep Topic of Phenomenal Importance. Really. Life as we know it hangs in the balance�

Up next: Shoe phones vs. cell phones; Agent 99 vs. Emma Peel. God bless ye Don Adams, you will be missed.

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