Just another damn day in Paradise

Right now, I'm watching Miss Peanut, who is perched on the arm of her daddy's armchair industriously twining tufts of his hair with the rainbow elastics she got from Santa. He won't let me take a picture. I don't know why not - I know I'm next.

Slider is busy cleaning Zippy's ears. This is his obsession - all dogs must have clean ears. I can hear the gentle rythmic slurping of Slider's long tongue in Zippy's auditory canal, and I am very grossed out. Ick.

The laundry is tumbling about in the dryer, and I can see the fragrant steam rising in front of my dining room window. Unfortunately, I have to schlep all of the clothes up two flights of stairs, fold it, and stow it. Kind of takes the enjoyment out of breathing deep the aroma of Spring Fresh Downy.

Children's TV is playing. It is irritating, but I am powerless to change it, lest it distract Miss Peanut from her artistic stylings. I really don't want to let her loose in my lustrous locks yet. (Damn, alliteration is fun!)

This is like a lost day - I know I have to go back to work tomorrow, but it's a weekday, which is throwing me totally off. The WCM is at home, so I can't be totally sluglike, as I would if he were out. I could lounge and read at the Olympic level. Nor do I want to be at all energetic, as I know the energy expenditure required just to get myself to work tomorrow is going to be colossal.

Oh, shit! Miss Peanut has turned a gimlet eye on me. I think it's my turn in the chair now. S'later.