SHUT YOUR PIE HOLE

I tried to fashion myself a pair of noise-suppressing headphones today from a bra and a pair of water-filled bust enhancers that never leave my underwear drawer, because I'm too embarrassed to use them.

My design failed -- Hank Hill's stupid voice is still violating my eardrums as are my children's repeated attempts to break down the door.

All I want is a couple of hours of peace and quiet -- that's it -- to compile a few hundred words so I can say I wrote something today. But no one in this house cares what I want or need. They've driven me too far this time -- obviously -- I'm wearing a bra on my head -- THERE'S A BRA ON MY HEAD.

Jerod seems to enjoy my suffering. He walks into the room, farts, does a stupid robot dance and to asks me, "What's wrong?"

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

One of these days I'm going to hop in my car and just drive -- drive to some place where I won't be interrupted every five minutes by someone who needs me for some major life crisis like a poopy diaper or the shoes that didn't make it upstairs per Jerod's demands -- "Shoes don't belong in the middle of the floor. How many times are you going to step over them before you take them upstairs where they belong?"

But I'll fix him. I'm gonna buy me a pair of magic shoes that multiply when you touch them. That dear-old hubby of mine will bury himself alive trying to toss my shoes out -- death by enchanted sneakers.

Let's Go!

"If today was not a productive day don't beat yourself to death over it. Wake up tomorrow and start from there. Try it. It works. We can't go back. We can only go forward. Let's go!"

-- TERRY McMILLAN