Earning that Massage

Max was up at 3:30 am last night.  He went back to sleep around  4:00 am.  I fell back to sleep around 6:30 and he was up at 7 am.

I didn’t get much sleep with Sparky’s flying fist of fury, the snoring cat and the other snoring cat.

Why is it that you work three times as hard to take a vacation than you do to stay home. It doesn’t make sense. Kinda like a word problem.

Jen wants 72 hours away from all responsibility.  She has only 24 hours to prepare. In that time she must sleep 7 hours, play with the kid 12 hours, clean for 5 hours and prepare for her trip for 3 hours. How much time does she have to grocery shop, cook two days worth of meals for two people, fold laundry, bath the baby, feed the cats and write a user manual for care of said child?

Answer: Not Fucking Enough

I wrote that on a test once. “…how much money does Todd have left?”  I left out the fucking part, but math not being my strong suit, I used my creativity to answer the question. Unfortunately, my math teacher was more about math.

I have a new invention, rather an idea for a new invention.

I want warning bell when my cat’s breath smells like ass.  I’m tired of him coming up all lovey dovey and getting a snoot full of cat butt breath.  Eau du kitty litter – hollow with a top note of poop and more than a hint of acrid piss.

Dude, seriously, if you have to be a cat person to have cats. The shit they put us through so we can give up the good spot in the bed and clean up their crap.

I gotta go shave my legs.  Its been a while.  It’s gonna take a while.


3 thoughts on “Earning that Massage

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