Oh, for the love.

Two weeks?! Has it really been more than two weeks?! Good grief.

I was doing so well!
I was being so with it!

I was doing flylady and whipping my house into shape.
I was following my strict eating rules.
I was making my BED for crying out loud!

And then I slipped on my bathroom floor tile and jammed my foot into the edge of the door. And I didn't even swear.

I just hobbled out to the couch to inspect the damage, which--of course--was an open invitation for my two year old to come zooming over with nothing less than a tennis racquet to see what was wrong and he whacked my foot again. And I didn't even swear.

I gimped around for the rest of that day--managing to pull together Father's Day dinner, somehow. Trying to lavish The Spouse with the praise and attention he so richly deserves. Then the next day, a family birthday, I dragged my poor children to the urgent care to get my foot x-rayed. Yup. Broken. They handed me a massive blue shoe and a bottle of Lortab and wished me luck.

So I took my lovely blue shoe to Girl's Camp this last week, which required a lot of up and down, and popped Lortab to get through the nights with sweet twelve year olds needing one more story and one more tuck-in. I am a much nicer person on Lortab. I still notice the things that annoy me. They just don't annoy me.

Home from Girl's Camp. No naps to be had. And my bottle of painkillers is empty. So what else is going to happen but get a nasty flu? It's probably the swine flu. I wouldn't put it past me, I really wouldn't. And my HAIR IS FALLING OUT.

Out the window goes my clean house! Pass the chocolate! Drown me in chips and salsa!

Did I mention that I didn't even swear?????