Feels like I’ve been here (and there, and there, and there) before.

I’ve identified one of the biggest challenges of adult life as finding the correct address in a condo complex where every unit looks alike. Last weekend, Tyler took my confusion to a new level when he burst through the first random door he saw, brushed by a family watching TV in their living room and nearly made it to their kitchen.

Housing development: an architect’s prank on the directionally retarded.

“Can I have juice?” “Can I have milk?” “Can I have water?”

I have come to the conclusion that the children request a beverage every ten minutes just to fill in the silence. I’m wondering if it’s legal to hook them up to an IV alternately dripping with Juicy Juice and strawberry milk. As for my own IV therapy, I’ll take whatever will induce blackout the fastest. Wake me up when they can get their own goddamn juice.