My husband is watching the NHL hockey draft. He was just talking about it and I have no idea what he was talking about. That’s OK. He thinks I know what he was talking about and that I was interested. Last night was even worse because he was trying to make me understand the mathematics of it all. I could try to explain what the statistics mean but I am pretty convinced you are dealing with people who have been hit in the head, hard, far too many times. 1000 is still 1000 no matter what figures you use to describe that 1000. Then again, you really should not be asking me because A: I don’t give a shit. And B: There is this
My daughter and I sealed one of her stuffed bunnies in a Food Saver bag but we felt sad so she let her out again. When my daughter was very small, probably about 3, she wanted to put Hop Hop (her other bunny) in the car seat and I got frustrated and said. “She’s not real!” and she said, “She’s real to me.” It made me want to cry. And of course I put Hop Hop in the car seat from then on.
OMG. My husband just said that it isn’t even the draft tonight. It is the order. What does that even mean?
I am making a rotisserie chicken again tonight. This is about as domestic as I get. I am making my own barbecue sauce. And roasted potatoes. I guess I will make a vegetable or two.
OK, I need to go and find Norbert.
Addendum – My husband is freaking out about whatever it is that is happening with this hockey thing. *rolls eyes*