. . .and it's only three in the afternoon. I am seriously on an emotional slide right now. This has been the day of spills. I've been cleaning up spills all day. There were more big spills this morning that there have been the entire rest of the week. Juice. Everywhere. That gets old so fast, to say nothing of sticky. I've cleaned juice from more square feet in this one day than the rest of my life altogether. I'm not exaggerating, I wish that I were. There is still cleaning to do. Rugs are in the washer, so glad I got machine washable rugs - it was my one requirement. By one this afternoon, I had had all I imagined I could take of the juice issue. I needed a treat for my sanity and I needed it fast. After picking up the children at school, I headed for Sonic. Cream Pie Shake to go, and I got some drinks for the kids, too. Maybe I wasn't thinking clearly. Drinks for the kids. My biggest worry was that someone would spill something in the car. I was pleased when we arrived home with everything still in its container. As I'm getting the baby out of the car I hear a wailing sob. It can't be, but yes it is. . .E has dropped her entirely full rootbeer float just inside the back door. My sister called while I was still absorbing the fact that at some point I was going to have to clean up another spill. Sensing the odd tone in my voice, she asks, "Are you sick?"
That kind-of says it all, doesn't it?
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