Boy if that fortune isn’t the truth.

Tonight, I had been playing baseball with the kids and later rushed upstairs to fix up a bit before heading to dinner with the family. I told Greg to give me five minutes since I was sweating more than my husband sweats at Disney, and that’s a lot. No pictures to prove it, just take my word for it, the guy gets hot.

So I ran some pomade through my locks, threw in a squirt or two of hairspray, a swipe of deodorant, and wondered why the lid wouldn’t fit on the bottle of hairspray.

That’s when I realized I was forcing the lid to my Secret over the much-smaller nozzle. Not exactly a match and a good reason to question my sanity. Same thing happened yesterday.

We made homemade pizza, with enough left over to feed the gazillion girls who cry at a Jonas Brothers concert, so I wrapped the extra slices in foil. I meant to grab my cell from the counter and take it upstairs, instead I walked into my bedroom and found myself with a handful of foil-wrapped pizza…

…and my phone chilling next to the milk.

Better get some sleep.

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