While I'm in the pantry, I decide that I will also reorganize the pantry (never mind I was yawning pretty much one right after the other and it was way past the time I should have been in bed given how tired I was). I pick up the vanilla flavoring for milk and it drops from my hands and lands on the ground and spills all over the floor. D! S! @#$###%^%$!!!
My dear sweet husband whom I love more than life itself, comes around the corner and says, in the meekest, sweetest, and can it be possible most sarcastic nice voice ever, "can any of it be saved?" I want you all to know I said NOTHING. Not one word. Not one breath. Not one word even IN MY HEAD did I say. NOTHING.
I proceeded to sweep and dust bust. And then he said, "The oldest will not be happy about this" and I walk around the corner and away from him because at that moment, I could have easily clobberred him. Once I got back into the pantry to finish up the big clean up, the broom promptly fell on my head. To this I scoffed. It could have been funny if there had been an audience. So I sit down to tell you all this woeful story and within minutes, the cat starts vomitting on the carpet to my right. Her dinner tonight was red tuna. Yep, you got it. Red tuna on the carpet. To which my honey said, "poor baby" with a stabbing smile in my direction.
On that note, I'm going to bed. This day was not meant to be. And it is NOT funny. Don't even smile cause I can see you and revenge is sweet.
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