See, it’s like Where’s Waldo! Except that it’s not. I just liked the title. But I don’t look anything like Waldo, and I’d certainly never wear red and white horizontal stripes. Talk about a fashion faux pas! I did go to high school with a boy who bore a significant resemblance to Waldo, though. True story.
Moving right along.
You may have noticed I didn’t post last night. “Jenny,” you’re thinking, “you said you would post every day, and you keep slacking. Can’t you achieve any goal you set?”
Wait, you’re not thinking that? Okay, I might be projecting a bit.
Last night I was besieged by nausea. No, I’m not pregnant. Bite your tongue! Trust me, if I’m ever pregnant, there will be a long hysterical post about it. Not hysterically funny. Hysterical in the way that gets people hospitalized.
Anyway, I sat there trying to not vomit on my keyboard and thought, “This is not worth stressing about.” So…I didn’t.
Don’t worry. I’m not saying I’ve given up on the Year o’ Blogging. Just that I decided to give myself a break. You’re okay with that, right?
Tonight I’ll return to my regularly scheduled snark, wherein I describe bowling with a 5-year-old and a 2-year-old. A sneak peek:
- “This was very possibly the worst idea I’ve ever had,” said Car.
- I’m pretty sure bowling with small children is one of Dante’s circles of hell. Perhaps an as-yet unpublished tenth circle.
You’re bursting with anticipation, I know. Try to hold it in until tonight.