The word from the field is that the boy and Ben did not catch themselves a Big Foot last night, but it wasn’t for a lack of batteries, rest assured.
(Because? Did you hear? $18.97 for double-As? Highway robbery!)
I went ahead and cleaned up my own house today… organized my kitchen by uncovering the counters and exposing them to daylight… because I’m just not sure the boys are going to hit PAY OUT and be able to hire me a housekeeper.
Anyway, I’m sure that none of you want a play-by-play on what I did today, because I just can’t make it sound interesting. Cleaning your own kitchen is hard work, people, and nobody wants to hear about how you finally emptied that bowl in the kitchen sink that had been sitting there for two days and was holding only Jesus knows what.
(I’m guessing it was a milk-product, that had… ahem!… thickened with age and exposure to the elements.)
(But I don’t really like to think about it.)
(I get the shivery kind of UN-good goosebumps when I do recall how I emptied it out down the garbage disposal.)
(Don’t worry. I chased it with half of a box of baking soda, because the garbage grinder was kind of gagging on that breakfast I fed it.)
So, just suffice it to say that our kitchen is clean, and look! I have some pictures!
(They’re not photos of the milk-product sludge. Ain’t nobody got time for that.)
The park with the fountains is Small Town’s alternative to the beach. Yes, we’d all like to be on Nantucket, sitting in the sand and biking to the corner grocery store for fresh lobsters and clams and corn on the cob, but the honest fact is… we’re landlocked. We take the water where we can get it.
And Thing 2 loves himself some fountains!
Y’all have a fantastic weekend, and, if you really ARE boiling up some fresh lobster, well, I think Hubs and Thing 2 and I are free for any dinner time you happen to suggest. The boy, though, will still be on his hunting expedition, which is fine, because he eats too much lobster at one sitting anyway.