So it seems May 21 was the soul-saving closing date, and total obliteration has been postponed five months. If you are on the brink of feeding the world or curing cancer, ABORT MISSION. There are only 200,000 tickets to salvation, and the paperwork is already in. If I don’t make the cut, come October I’ll be crouched in a bunker with two of each species. Anyone know where I can find a couple of hairy-nosed wombats?
My Nonsensical Thought of the Day
About that Rapture…
It is just after midnight, May 22, on Kiritimati Island. The earth is quiet and still, but above, there is a low rumbling in the clouds, a frenzied stir that can be heard just beyond the pearly gates. “Damnation! I just spilled wine on my robe. Now where did I put that other sandal? Hell’s fire, I am six hours late. Can’t this camel go any faster? And how do you program ‘heaven to earth’ on his piece of crap GPS?”
Must all the fun in this house be at my expense?
Cool: wasting away a rainy morning playing dress-up with your preschooler.
Not cool: forgetting to take the tiara off your head before you drop her off at school.
Even less cool: having a husband who sees your tiara, elects not to tell you about it, and smirks at you all the way out the door.
Quick question…
I wonder if three kids in the pouring rain, a duffel bag filled with children’s floatation swimsuits, a large diaper bag, a purse stuffed with Goldfish crackers, two umbrellas and a broken spirit qualifies me for a handicapped parking space?