I’m not talking about what happens to us when we die. That would be morbid and this is Monday so happy, happy.
As I was enjoying my weekly “Get out of Jail for One Hour” break (I went to Laz House of course!), I got to thinking (never a good sign and safest when done in the shower).
What would happen to my blog?
- Who would notify the winner? Or better yet, who would pick the winner?
- What about my Alexa rating?
- My multi-million dollar sponsors?
- Would you think that I had abandoned you (I hope you know that I wouldn’t)?
And most importantly, where would you go to fill your daily quota of totally useless and mundane information of which my content is endless?
I started to feel verklempt. I was finding it difficult to drive through the pouring tears. The constant sweeping motion required to make my eyes useful was inhibiting my ability to drive. I was drowning in a puddle of salt water. I had to pull over.
Okay, seriously though, I was a bit concerned.
When I got home and shared my whoes with Ed, he set me straight. He assured me that all would continue on as it was without me.
I might as well just say good-bye now.
I’ll let you be the judge.
The Kids are two and a half. We must talk about body parts 5,420,912 times a day.
The other day, we were talking about female body parts and Artemis looked down at her chest, back up at me and then down again. I asked her what she was thinking and she said “Moles”.
Given her questionable genetics, yes, they might just end up as such. Poor girl.
I might just have the World Record for: Number of Times in one day that a person has stated “Yes, Bob the Builder is a Boy”.