The Sabbath

This is Sunday: the day of "rest". Rest from what exactly? I'm not really sure.

Dude. I seriously cannot stand cleaning up scrambled eggs. I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating. THEY JUST KEEP SCRAMBLING! I would rather clean 500 haircuts off my kitchen floor than one bowl of scrambled eggs.

Or here's an idea- how about the little people I 'rest' around all day EAT THE FRIGGIN FOOD I GIVE THEM and not throw it on the floor. You know, that hole in the face below the nose, the food goes in there. Then you mash it with those sharp things inside the hole and then (gasp!) swallow it. Let's try that just once today. Imagine the waitress at the Ethiopian restaurant, she would be appalled at the wasted food I scrape off my fl0or each day.

Hey here's another idea. Let's not pretend to have to go pee when one of us kids in the family gets sent to time out or is asked to do something. What if I did that every time I didn't want to do something I was supposed to do?

Oh you're hungry for dinner? Oh dang, I have to pee! And it's coming out fast! And then I would race to the bathroom, lock the door and stack rolls of toilet paper for 30 minutes. Then empty the toothpaste and smear it all over the counter. Then when someone came knocking on the door demanding food I would moan 'but I have to go pooooooooooo' and then giggle to myself while I would really be making a dress out of the shower curtain while pressing the plunger into the wall.

Oh to be a kid again. To do whatever the heck you want and watch the adults supress their anger and use their meaningless words.