I’ve started this entry about six different times now, and each time I’ve deleted it. I’m having one of those days–and if you’re looking for sunshine and unicorn farts, you should just move right on along, because there’s nothing to see here.
It wasn’t a bad day. But it wasn’t a good day, either. It just was. Nothing exciting happened. We didn’t have any near misses with baseball-sized hail like we have over the past few days, and our resident unwelcome guest stayed fairly quiet for most of the day.
Boo didn’t do anything that I immediately thought, Eureka! that’s blog fodder! He was his usual cute, quirky self, but at some point people are going to start wondering why I’m so obsessed with writing about what goes in and out of him. It’s not exactly interesting from a non-parent perspective, ya know?
We woke up. We ate breakfast. Played. Took a nap–both of us, don’t judge. We ate lunch. Played some more. Yelled at Casper for slamming the door to the master bedroom. Ate dinner, watched Survivor, took a bath, went to bed. And then one of us had a Sminoff Cherry Limeade, but I’m not naming names on that one.
There’s nothing I can do to spin this day into something funny. And believe me, I’ve tried. This afternoon while I was channeling my inner David Grohl and wailing ‘The Pretender’ into my broom-cum-microphone (heh, cum), Boo yelled at me to stop singing. “You’re BAD!” he insisted.
Newsflash, America: I’m not Lady Gaga, and my two year-old can tell. And that’s as good as it gets.
If this wasn’t the Month of Blogging Dangerously, I would completely skip writing today. But here I am, dutifully pecking away so that I can give myself a pat on the back at the end of the month.
I think I’ll file this one under “Just Not Good Enough” because that’s how I’m feeling.