The NBC is teething. Four teeth. At once. Oh, and he has a cold.
Mr. Squishy hasn't slept in two days. Neither have we.
Sunshine is not sunny. He's sensitive, crabby, and prone to throwing any and all fragile and/or sentimental objects within reach.
My floor is a hazard to my children's health. No. Really.
I haven't even started sorting what I estimate to be about ten loads of laundry. There is no clean underwear in the house. Minor detail.
We have no milk. And we're down to two bananas. This is bad.
I'm hosting a party tomorrow, and I haven't a clue what I'm serving. Then there's the fact that my house looks like it threw up on itself.
(I'd post a picture, but I just ... don't think ... I can ....)
I am so totally going to break our "weekends only" movie rule, pop in Finding Nemo, and START.