Never turn down an invitation from a kid to build a fort with him, even if it means nobody’s going to have socks for the next week.
My life is in shambles.… Actually it’s beyond shambles. My life is really in shabambalambles.
Our skates aren’t sharpened. Our cars are low on gas. I’m late for my kids’ performance. My car is full of house plants and dog gates and workout equipment and empty boxes and makeup and hair rollers and four-day-old coffee and medicine and empty plastic bags and hangers with nothing on them and empty boxes and hair rollers and various necklaces and low-calorie fruit drinks and blankets for covering our knees during hockey and a stationary bike and various watches and other broken timepieces.
I thought, back when I was a teenager… I thought I would outgrow my slovenly ways.
Nope. From shambles to shabambalambles.
And the kicker?
Disorganization is my biggest pet peeve. Skip says I’m the worst kind of slob. “You’re a slob who makes huge messes and then stays totally freaked out that everything is such a mess. You’re a Type-A SLOB!”