So we’ve transitioned nicely into the Anger stage of grief after our Friday Night Break-In that you may or may not have read about in earlier posts entitled Like A Bizarro Hangover and Being Burglarized Blows.
Justin has been a holy terror all day long. Barry hasn’t slept for two days, which is making him really cheerful. David has no patience for his brothers (not that he usually does, so that may be completely unrelated), Alex has pitched a fit about not getting something to eat at Culver’s and because his Dorothy doll has too big of a rack to fit into petite little Rapunzel’s wedding gown and not being able to get the back of it fastened, Cameron has been defiant and unresponsive, and I’m about ready to throw all of them out on the front step instead of listening to it all.
So same old, same old really.
I spent most of my morning expending nervous energy by cleaning and organizing while Justin followed behind me messing stuff up again just to be difficult. I gave orders to those who populate the downstairs man-pit area of the house to clean down there too, but I don’t think it happened.
Oh well, it’s nice to have at least one floor habitable again. That will last for about a day. I wonder if I called the sheriff’s department they’d come out and retake the crime scene photos now that there isn’t a pile of baseball cards, Tech Deck skateboards, broken pencils, squishies, unopened mail, and Laffy Taffy wrappers littering my back kitchen counter?
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2012