The carpet cleaning machine has broken down.

That terrarium is still in the living room.

Bridget’s room redecoration project is stalled until she can go back to Home Depot. (So she sleeps on my bedroom floor. Which isn’t so bad except that she likes to keep a glass of water next to her during the night. It spilled. 16 ounces all over my already nasty carpet. When my feet hit the puddle this morning I blamed Scrappy. Sorry. That was not kind. Plus I don’t think Scrappy is capable of 16 ounce output.)

Fran’s boss says we need to put less water in the frog tank. We can create a case of arrested development by not giving him enough dry area to walk on. (Now let’s talk about pre-adults who live in this basement.)

Scrappy crawled in bed with me about 4:30. With the hiccups. To my maternal ear, that was an early warning that I was about to be vomited upon.
Fortunately, it was just the hiccups. I haven’t been as lucky when the kids crawl in making the same sound.

And, still, it is a good day!