in the beginning of 2008, my husband and I realized that it had been YEARS since either of us had gotten to sleep in. Since there are two days in the weekend, we decided to split them, so that I get to sleep in on Saturdays, and he, on Sundays. Very quickly, not surprisingly, Saturday mornings became a TV fest, the best morning of the week, the time to vedge ( I know it’s not a word and f it were it’d be spelled differently, I know) and let the brain cells that we hoped built up all week at school, have a long, yet painless death.
When I get up I ususally signify the end of this bliss, and they look at me suspiciously and wonder how long they have before I finish mycoffee, get my self together and find the remote and say BYE BYE TV, sometimes, I don’t find it, and I have to press three different button,s on three different machines to turn it off.
and then all hell breaks loose.
They are so cute when they lie there, relaxing, not a care in the world, with a zombie look on thier face. (the same look I get when I watch TV at night, and I do, don’t think for a moment I am any different than them)
This can't comfortable
This can't be straight
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