Just a little post to say that I'm supposed to be ready, showered, shaved and shiny by 2:00pm and it's now a bit after 1pm and I'm still clicking and clacking away on my 'puter 'stead of washing the skank from my bod.
Why the rush?
We have a 2pm lunch date with our friends, their newish baby and four juicy steaks.
So - I guess the least I can do is not smell like day old ickies, huh? I mean - they're gonna hand me their extrememly fragile babykins and I really don't wanna smell like this morning adult Romper Room session with yesterday's eyemakeup somewhere around my second chin, right?
All right, fine.
Since I've now voiced my "meh-ish" of hygeine for the day (really and truly want a Holly-sized bubble, climate-controlled and easily transportable in which to be a truly kept woman for Xmas) I will go and hop in the shower, scrub the necessary parts and, just to torment the neighbors, sing some really old and really worn-out Alanis Morisette song that will make them all start hunting for new abodes far far away from me and my twangy angst-ridded voice.
.... Nope... still here.
All I know is that if I'm still sitting here at the kitchen table, bra-less, dirty and with a half-braid in my sticky hair when Harry comes home I'm in deeeeeep sh -
ACK - THE GARAGE DOOR! RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!