It's been a rough couple of days here at Shiny Red Houses.
The cranky factor had reached eleven by Friday when the children asked me to look at "things" about four hundred times an hour. What "things" you ask? Dance moves, barbie outfits, drawings, rocks, melted crayons, dog scabs, stuffed animals, freckles, and dogs.
Sometimes a mother does not want to look at one more thing.
Sometimes a mother would rather not hear about the cool new Webkinz maze or the new episode of Danny Phantom or why you think your room is not messy even though all evidence suggests otherwise.
Sometimes a mother needs a day off and so Sunday morning I left my house with plans to be out all day long.
I junked and meandered and had a lovely time. Finally, around 3:30 I began my journey home. All was peaceful.
Until the Volvo in front of me stopped when I thought they would go and I rear ended it.
I was okay. The kind woman in the Volvo was okay. My car... a little bit crumpled. The hood, the bumpers and the Toyota symbol on the front are not looking so hot. The kind lady in the Volvo had a bit of damage to her bumper, but not too bad. We exchanged information and drove away.
The problem with spending twelve years in the company of nuns is that when something bad happens the only explanation is that you are being punished by God. It's true. This was my indoctrination and it stuck, completely and utterly.
When I got home after my automobile accident I was despondent. I was being punished for being sick of my children by an angry god who has obviously never been a mother.
While I was being despondent in the kitchen, contemplating my new life as a woman who rear ended a Volvo, I smelled something. The something I smelled was not a good smell, though I am sorry to say, it was a familiar smell.
Reader, thank you for sticking with me. I am so, so, so very sorry that I have to tell you this.
THERE IS ANOTHER DEAD BABY BIRD IN THE EXHAUST VENT!
Dear lord, why have you forsaken me??!!!
Today has been great. I called in my accident claim. I killed flies. Then, I killed more flies.
David seems to have recovered from his pro-bird stance and is now ready to wage full on war against the offending avian death stench. Our handyman friend will be coming by this week to remove the corpse and cover the vent with wire.
As of today I have killed seventeen flies and that my friends is why I had ice cream for dinner.
EDITED TO ADD: It was Edy's French Silk Slow Churned yummy lowfat blah blah yum yum.