Okay... my heart rate seems stabilized now...

Jesus Christmas.

Remember what I said about the laundry still all being there when I got back to it?
How warn't nobody around here gonna do any of it-n-shit?
Remember how utterly convinced I was of that?

Well, that conviction, plus the fact that about half of what was left to do was MISSING when I got up, damned near gave me "the big one, Liz'beth..."
*staggers around, clutching chest*

I knew when I finally corked off this morning that there was still about three or so loads left, one of which would include the "PRCA" shirt Jr. asked me about the other day.

I go in the bathroom and before I even took a whiz, I nearly shit because I noticed immediately that all those clothes were... just gone.

My first thought was, "Jr.'s shirt! He's gonna kill me..."

I even did what I never do and checked in his room.
(While there I also scooped up the newly forming MOUNTAIN of dirty clothes...
*rolls eyes*)

I didn't see the PRCA shirt.
(By the way, PRCA, for those poor city folk is Professional Rodeo Cowboy's Ass'n., which both Jr. and Sr. are a member of...)

Anyhoo... no shirt in there.
No shirt in the dirty clothes.
No shirt anywhere that I see.
(Not to mention about 2/3 of a load of dirty work clothes...)

I'd just woken up from a dream where I was a moron and had about $80 bucks stolen from me. I don't know where it was that this happened, I didn't recognize the location, but my Dad was there, trying real hard not to look at me like I was stupid for leaving all my shit sitting outside my car, next to the chainlink fence.
(Don't ask me, man.... looked like a rest stop or something. Stupid dream.)

So, I wake up and gratefully realize that I'm not out $80, my Dad isn't finally convinced that I'm a 'tard (well, maybe he is, but that's a whole 'nother post, ain't it? *giggle*) and, like I said, I go into the bathroom and discover the absence of this laundry.

After a few minutes of increasingly more frantic lookin' around, I finally came downstairs and stepped outside in my robe and saw Jr. and George working on something in front of the garage.

I hollered over to 'em, "Hey... I know this is gonna sound completely insane, buuuut... has anybody been doing anything different in the bathroom today?"

Jr. grinned and raised his hand.

Me: "Liiiike laundry?"

He nods, still grinning.

Me; "Ohthankgawd... scared the shit outta me, man. I went in there and saw all that shit gone and all I could think was "Jr's shirt!". I even looked in your room, Dude. I also swiped all those dirty clothes you had in there, but, MAN... I just had this dream... blah, blah, blah... then I wake up and your shirt is gone... Gawd..."

By the time I'd gotten this far, he and George both were laughin' at me...

Then, it hits me....

Somebody besides me actually did a load of laundry!
*cue Fred Sanford imitation*

Ho-ly shiT (a la Bluto Blutarsky), ya know?

Miracles do happen and not just on 34th St.

And, now that I'm sufficiantly recovered, or getting there, I need to run to the store.
"They" are outta soda and I want more OJ.
Maybe I'll get some kinda cornbread mix or whomp biscuits too, to go with the (metric ton of) chicken potpie I'll be making later.
And Coffeemate.
Gotta remember I need that, too.
(Yes, Mad Wm. I do hear you saying "List, woman... make a LIST", in my head... *giggle*)

*about a minute later*

Done.
Made the list.
You'd think I could remember three whole things, huh?

Psh.

As if that'll be the only shit I get.
I know me.
I'll think of another 5 or 6 things, then forget the original three.
I've done it before.

See? I just remembered another thing... Tyler food.
*scribble, scribble, scratch*
And now, it's on the list, too.

Okay then.
I'm outta here.

And, if anybody wants any chicken potpie (with made-from-scratch dumplings, though I didn't grow the chicken... pets="not food", remember?), feel free to stop by.
God knows, I'll have enough of this shit to feed about half the guys who were in the Civil War... yeah, THE CONFEDERATE HALF.
*plucks Confederate battle flag outta the "Lone Star" long-neck beer bottle it lives in on top of the computer desk and begins waving it proudly*

Peace, y'all...

Posted by: Stevie at 04:07 PM

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