Concrete Shoes

Well, it's almost over.

I had a good run. Six years of eating bon-bons and watching Oprah is drawing to a close. I am about ready to re-join the rat race.

I have been busier than a one handed hooker in a jack off contest, trying to get all of my affairs in order.

I hired a new cleaning lady, who will come weekly, and I *think* I like her. She doesn't speak any English, so she may be yelling obscenties at me, but she does it with a smile, so we are good.

Joey is back to work and washing himself daily. The kids are going mach 3 around the house and ready for summer to end.

I have started crying myself to sleep at night. I am really going to miss Anthony.

Lauren, not so much. I LOVE that girl, but she is so independent and headstrong, that she is READY to take on the world. She has also been in pre-school for two years now, so I am used to her absence.

Anthony is a different story. His umbilical cord was not cut before we left the hospital and it is intact to this day. The child thinks the moon and sun rise on me (which they do, coincidentally) and he is going to be mortified when I leave him.

He keeps saying "Cool" which is school, so in theory, he wants to go. I just don't think he grasps that I am going to abandon him for eight hours. Poor baby..


What else? I woke up at like 3 this morning, and had to pee. While I was sitting there, I saw a mini tootsie roll on the bathmat, so I leaned over and picked it up.

I screamed silently as I realized that A)We do not eat tootsie rolls and 2)Even if we DID, tootsie rolls are NOT slimy and alive.

It was a SLUG! A wet, slimy, slug. With antenna! I tried to throw it, but it was stuck to my hand like a leech, so there I was, screaming under my breath, since the bathroom I chose was RIGHT outside of the baby's room, with a slug stuck to my hand and my panties around my ankles.

I finally flung him hard enough that he flew out of my hand, and stuck to the wall like one of those quarter machine hands. I grabbed a wad of toilet paper, scooped him up and flushed him down.

I then washed my hands for 2.5 hours.

Of course, I had nightmares for the remainder of my sleep.

This morning after breakfast, Lauren screamed, so I went running. She was standing, looking into the toilet bowl "There's a WORM IN THE POTTY!!

Holy crap. He was BACK. Dead, but floating. I guess his corpse filled with water and he floated to the top. I flushed him again, but he wouldn't go down.

I finally grabbed a slotted spoon, fished a dead, bloated slug out of the toilet, walked it through the house, and flung it out the back door.

I guess it's a good thing I am not going back to work as a hitman, huh?