What to say...?

The theme this weekend seemed to be jokes about getting old. From my Mom's "29th" Birthday, to deciding that we only appreciate cleaning supplies because we're old.

My Mom's birthday was yesterday. I was dis-invited for fear my S.A.R.S. would spread and infect the universe. Namely, my Grammy. And I wouldn't want anyone to feel as crappy as I did this weekend, let alone my Grammy. Duh, who wants to get awesome old ladies sick? Certainly not me. So I kept my sick rear end home. But rumor has it there wasn't any cake, so I'm not feeling like I missed out on an opportunity to get fatter. But I did get to have dinner and drinks with her Sat night (where I was forced to purchase extra cold meds). And I'll be damned if those Amaretto Sours didn't just hit the spot!

I did manage to get my house cleaned Sunday between naps. It's hard to get off the couch with 200+ pounds of dogs sleeping on you but I managed. And Hoover owes me commission, I talked someone into a floormate, but IDK what you people did. Mine might be a few years old, but it's the most awesome hardwood floor cleaner EVER. 'D' got a new one on my praise, and I think he's on the fence about it. But our excitement in cleaning apparatuses made us decide that we were getting old.

And after further review, I've decided that there's a lot to cleaning that has some very sexual undertones... I'll leave it to your imagination to see how "old" you are in understanding that... But it was decided that that's why we as adults get so excited about these things, LOL!