Yesterday was a long day here in Mamaville. I worked at the church in the morning, with Mini Monster "helping" me by running a very loud and annoying battery-operated train on the desk. And demanding snacks and juice about every 0.00001 seconds. After church, I had a couple of hours at home before heading off to Job B, the adoption agency gig. I was doing the final home study visit for a really great couple and I enjoyed the visit immensely.
On the drive home, I called my sister. It's about a 45-minute drive, so I figured we could visit a while. Well, the conversation turned to our father and we once again started trying to figure out how we came from such a dysfunctional bunch of crap and still turned out to be
Fast forward to 3:00 this morning...I am on my knees, head inside the porcelain, praying for death to come swiftly. I have no idea what it was, but as soon as my body was done sending it back I felt fine. I'm SURE you wanted to hear all about me retching forth everything but my toenails and a snack I had in first grade, but hey...I felt like sharing.
It's not MY fault. Tell my sister not to discuss our father while I'm eating and I promise not to do it again!!