Hillbilly Mom needs a shawl, a rocking chair, and a glass of water
on the nightstand to drop her teeth into every evening. And while
we're at it, let's add a walker with neon green tennis balls on the
legs, in case there's not a Wal*Mart cart around. I feel old, people.
I fell asleep last night in the recliner, just before the Powerball
numbers were announced. Don't worry about me. I didn't win.
I woke up several times, planning to watch Saturday Night Live,
but the first act was so gosh-darn boring that it put me to sleep
again. I hope the show got better as it went along. I woke up at
12:10 a.m., and promptly went to bed.
That's not as restful as it might sound. HH poked his rear onto my
side of the bed, and I spent the remainder of the night balancing on
the edge of the mattress. A mountain-climber hanging over the edge
of a precipice in a nylon sling would have slept better than I did.
Ohh. My aching sacroiliac.
I made spaghetti and cheese bread for the boys and HH's lunch.
I didn't have any, because the tomato sauce, and the garlic in the
cheese bread, give me heartburn. I'm really not all THAT old.
Contrary to popular opinion. The kids at school regularly guess
my age as younger than my actual age. Of course, these are the
kids that declared one of the subs is SO OLD...he must be at
least 50! The guy is well into his 70s. So perhaps these kids are
not such a good age barometer.
I've done nothing today but two loads of laundry and cook lunch.
Perhaps I should strive to be more productive on the weekends.
I went out on the porch to watch two Air Force fighter jets practice
killing each other in the airspace over my Mansion. I hope those
guys got good training for the price of my tax dollars.
Ho hum. I think I might go lie down for a while. I can still squeeze
in a nap before supper.
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