Sunday, lazy Sunday

It's a lazy sunday morning and I seriously considered not showering today. I have nowhere to go, except to the kitchen to brew a cuppa joe. Then I realized that no writing would happen today until I washed and put on clean underwear.

Why is clean underwear so important? Kids don't care about clean underwear or how they smell. Mine doesn't even care about the potential smell when he doesn't wipe his butt well enough after a chat-fest on the toilet.

"Hey Mom, come in the bathroom. You have to see this."

Uhm, no. No I don't.

I suppose it's a good thing we don't have a dog.

But now that I am properly washed and in today's underwear (no, they do not say "Sunday" across the butt), I'm wondering if I really needed the shower after all. Who would know? Unless, of course, I find myself in the emergency room, regaining consciousness to see the entire ER staff standing around me pointing and laughing.

If the volume on the TV in the other room wasn't competing against the noise of the electric train set, and the monkey that just walked in here, making it impossible to get two brain cells to collide and complete a thought, I could probably ruminate on this further. But since I'm not a cow (don't even think it), and in spite of my inability to think...

What was I saying?

Nevermind. I'll drown it all out with the white noise in my head and finish my coffee.

Happy day-of-rest. May your coffee be hot, your underwear clean, and all of your monkeys in their cages.