Perfecting the art of procrastination

It is that biannual time of the year, friends and neighbors, when frazzled moms and grandmothers sit with safety pins, hangers and sore fingers desperately trying to ready clothes for consignment with the Picky Chick. This sale has been good to me for many years...ever since she had the sale in her garage and I waddled up her driveway a mere 24 hours from giving birth. I am one of those mothers and I have the clothes all over our living room. As you can plainly see, so much work is being done here. Clearly I am the example on just how to do this effectively and efficiently. Cough cough. Just coming out and saying it right now: I HATE to prepare, tag and price my items. If I weren't so cheap, I'd take the 50-50 split and have someone do it for me. But I can't. So I sit. In the corner of the sectional. And write whilst watching "The Following". Uh oh wait. Drama upstairs. Be right back.............

Okay, so the sound of blood curdling screams came from upstairs. Honestly, I haven't seen my husband run that fast since before the surgery. Apparently a huge creature landed on my child's nose, causing her to scream and give her parents heart palpitations. Luckily, the boy slept through it and we had both recently used the facilities. When the offending party had been located and identified (stinkbug), B tried to take advantage of an educational opportunity and show them the bug. Stinky had other plans which included, oh I don't know, escape. This then unleashed a firestorm of "We're sleeping in your room" which was answered with "Stinkbugs can move. It might come in our room next." Apparently there is safety in numbers against something 1/1gajillionth your size, so they are bunking together. Whatever gets them back to sleep....and me back to taggin- oh who am I kidding. Kevin Bacon is mocking kidnappers. The clothes can wait.


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