Bennett came home from camp one night this week — well, one morning actually. M met his delayed flight at two am. (Flying west during the summer is a royal pain. Storms abound in the middle of the country, delaying just about every flight.) Now that I have accounted for lost items (sneakers) and shown him the items in his duffel that I packed that he didn’t even know were there (raincoats, playing cards, and books (hah!); apparently, side pockets are for ignoring), I am wading through his laundry, which really isn’t as bad as I’d anticipated. Maybe that’s because I have gotten used to a certain level of gunge already.
After all, just this week M and I were investigating a tear in our couch:
What you can see here is a rip behind the couch cushion. What you cannot see is the apple core that someone shoved in there about three years ago. The apple, from what I can tell, seems to have grown feet as well as several other smaller apples, and had turned the entire cushion into a mess of mold and gunge. (I am sparing you a before picture, because some of you may have just eaten, or, even worse, actually have food in your mouths.)
When she saw me scrubbing the back of the coach, removing chunks of fruit mold, and swearing profusely, Sidney tried to improve my mood by painting a picture:
Honestly, I do not know what to make of this. Is she paying homage to my impressively sized feet, or has she become the boob fairy and granted me a pair of well sized, but low-hanging breasts to cheer me up?
I didn’t ask for clarification.