Electric Strawberry

So.... did I mention that I'm really close to the edge tonight?

I am.

I don't want your pity - I guess this is more of a countdown. How many more questions I can take, how much more family flatulence at dinner time is necessary before I finally call the Funny Farm Wagon?

I do suppose it would  be quieter there. But I don't suppose they have deep, claw-footed bathtubs full of hot water and lovely, smelly bubbles.

I'll take the quiet, even without the bubbles.

So after a full day of work, a flatulence-filled dinner time with the family, a noisy evening where all I want to do is have some peace and do some internetting (is that a word? it is now.), I'm sitting here, trying my best to ignore the totally unnecessary questions that everyone feels that they need to ask of me. I try sooo hard not to answer rudely; not to be snappy. Sooo, sooo hard.

Still biting my tongue....

My usual piece of sunshine, my Princess (aka 4 year old daughter) is sitting beside me drinking a strawberry shake.

And here it is...

Princess decides to take the straw from the shake......

And blow! Did I mention she was sitting right beside me? Aimed at the computer? The keyboard specifically. Did I also mention that we just replaced this keyboard a month ago?

I now leave you with a sample, a very small sample, of the "unnecessary questions" that plague me mostly every evening.

1. Why do the kids leave the garage door open when they come home?

2. Who are you emailing?

3. So why are you looking up flats in London?

4. Why is the suitcase out?

 

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