Monkey has an appointment on Thursday with the ENT who did last year’s surgery, because it turns out that Monkey’s sinuses are still assholes. Monkey has sounded like an 80-year-old lifelong three-pack-a-day smoker for a couple of weeks, now, and his behavior indicates that the poor little dude is just feeling miserable. But true to his usual form, he has no fever, claims he feels “fine,” and basically I only know something is wrong because he’s spending more time as Mr. Hyde than Dr. Jekyll, if you catch my drift. And we ALMOST made it to Thursday, too, but… well, Otto took the boys to school this morning, and then Otto brought Monkey back home. He was distraught (Monkey, that is—Otto is a stoic), and so I convinced him to lie down with me for a minute. He slept for almost three hours. So.
That’s the kind of fun we’ve been having ’round here.
So while I go deal with that, perhaps you’d like to take a sartorial stroll down memory lane? I’m over at Off Our Chests today, talking beloved outfits of my past. Please don’t laugh. I mean, laugh, sure, just not AT me… too loudly.