318 Words To Tell Y’all That I’ll Tell Y’all About Our Weekend Tomorrow


I don’t know what happens to Sunday nights, because I always have very good intentions of telling y’all about our weekend.

(Like y’all even care about our weekend, what with us being your average, boring, American family and all.)

But then Sunday night rolls around, and it rains.  And it’s cold.  And it’s dark.  And then I get into my yoga pants and a sloppy T-shirt.  And I squish my hair into a rubberband on the top of my head.  And the boys go to bed.  And then I blank out, and I can’t even muster up a single thought in my head beyond OH!  LET’S LAY IN BED AND WATCH OLD EPISODES OF THE OFFICE ON HUBS’ LAPTOP.

(Because The Office?  Well, we are way behind, people.)

(Ditto for Modern Family, The Middle, and The Big Bang Theory.)

(That’s all I watch.)

(It’s all my ADD can handle.)

(Truthfully, that’s two shows MORE than my ADD can handle, but I’m dealing.)

(Hubs doesn’t have ADD.  Hubs has about fourteen other shows in his list of what he can handle.)

(He likes shows on crazies who hunt big foot, and crazies who make moonshine, and crazies who do extreme logging, and crazies who sell junk in pawn shops, and crazies who make homemade rockets and singe their eyebrows.)

(Sadly, the boy likes all of these shows, too.)

(I have enough crazies in my life; I don’t need reality-show crazies added to the heap.)

So that’s how it’s going to go down tonight.  If you’re around Jedi Mama, Inc. tomorrow evening, I’ll explain our weekend in detail.  I’ll try to not kill you with all the boredom either, by saying things like, “And then we heated up the Kuerig and made coffee, right before we brushed our teeth on Saturday morning.”

Happy Sunday, people.  I hope all y’all are wearing comfy pajama bottoms and relishing the drippy weather.

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