I became a rebel with a paintbrush this week and painted those peach ceilings white. You heard me, I did it. I loudly and proudly exclaim to the world that I painted those peach ceilings white, without permission from the folks we are renting from. Rebel? Thats me! Last night I was a very UNhappy B-Dub. Painting ceilings are NO FUN. Especially after 4 hours at the park and a strength training workout for my legs. I was hurting something fierce by 1:30 in the AM when I finally finished. Is this the face of a happy B-Dub? I think not.
As if I needed any other reason for the angriness, I was also dealing with this:
Stupid hours spent at the Park. : (
But this morning provided some excellent entertainment to distract me from my misery of aching butt regions and sunburned top regions. Littlest was chatting it up on this old cell phone my big bro Coolio gave to Oldest. And by chatting it up I mean having actual conversations, like "I love my family, but Dadda is at work" and "I have a puppy and his name is Chuey-baca," et cetera.
The second time she started with the talking on the celly I could have sworn I heard someone talk back to her. Impossible, there is no service associated with that particular phone. She couldn't have call anyone, Right?
Wrong. She was having a very merry conversation with the ever so happy 911 operator. You hear me, Littlest called 911 and filled her in on the status of each family member, including the dog; and talked about going back to the park, wanting to go to McCrappies for lunch, and how we have not yet brushed her hair this morning.
Needless to say, that phone no longer has a battery. And, I am now convinced, my kids wish to cause me bodily harm in the form of busted blood vessels in my eye. Or maybe my ear, either way. Send help, Xanex, and blood pressure medication ASAP.
Oh, and just in case you are wondering what a peach ceiling looks like part way through its transformation:
It was similar to living in a cave. Badness.