So a fortnight ago I was totally ill-prepared for the housekeeper’s visit, and when did they show up?  At 8:45 a.m., six hours earlier than their usual time.  Last night I tidied the entire house and was totally prepared, and I called the service this morning and asked for an ETA, and they said…wait for it…between 1:30 and 3:30.  Translation:  2:30 or 3 p.m., right as the children are coming home.  I really need to change my lifestyle to manipulate them to come between the hours of 10 a.m. and 2 p.m.  But I can’t think of how to do it short of hosting a playgroup in my home during those hours, and that would probably just be a Pyrrhic victory.

So a couple months ago I made the mistake of subscribing to the lovelyish feed on Xanga, which means that my subscription inbox is cluttered with lovelyish posts, some of which are entertaining diversions but majority of which I’m not interested in because, crap, who knew lovelyish posted every three minutes?  Well, I do, now.  I should just unsubscribe, but then I wouldn’t get gems like “Miley Cyrus Regrets Smoking Salvia,” which I initially read as “Miley Cyrus Regrets Smoking Saliva,” and I was like, what the effing crap? but once I realized my error, I was very amused.  Granted, that is more self-amusement than lovelyish-induced amusement, but would it have been possible without lovelyish?  Probably not.  I still don’t know what “salvia” is.  I was going to Google it, but I figured one of you hipsters would just tell me and I’d save myself the trouble.  Also, I’m kind of still enjoying the thought of Miley Cyrus smoking saliva.  Not the image, mind you–I haven’t gone there–but the thought.  It makes me chuckle inwardly.

So as part of my ongoing program to ruin my life, I started playing this new word game on the Facebook.  It was totally addicting.  I could seriously have played this game all freaking day long.  That might have been a function of me being a super-boring person who is striving to avoid meaningful engagement with the world, but I wouldn’t rule out the game containing some form of internet crack.  (It’s made by some entity called “Mind Jolt”–COINCIDENCE?)  Anyway, I was playing the game yesterday…or was it Monday?  I don’t remember, but whatever.  The game ended and I got a message congratulating me on setting a new Facebook record.  As in, I had just made the highest score in all of Facebook.  All of Facebook!  Which on the one hand is kind of like an achievement, but on the other hand, as achievements go, it’s pretty shameful.  Anyway, that’s when I realized that I had a problem and had to quit.  I’m doing much better now.  As I was just writing a paragraph ago, I tidied my whole house and now I have nothing left better to do than to blog about how I kicked my Mind Jolt word game addiction.  Twelve-step program: 1-11) Keep playing the game until you’re the best. 12) Become jaded.  I hope you found that inspiring.  (You’re welcome.)

What’s on tap, Sister Sledges?  You might wonder why I just called you all “Sister Sledges.”  Answer:  I don’t know, but I’ll analyze it for you here now.  My husband often calls me Sister Sledge.  He also, on occasion, calls our daughters Sister Sledge.  Is it because We Are Family?  Possibly.  Mostly I think it’s because he has Benign Tourette’s Syndrome and he just says whatever crap comes into his brain.  Can you imagine living that way?  Well, I don’t have to.  I’m in it, kids.  And now you all are Sister Sledges.  Even the dudes.  All, like, three of you.

Where was I going with this, originally?  I think I was wondering what I was going to talk about next.  There’s not much to say.  I have some other crap I could be doing that doesn’t involve internet crack.  I’m dithering over whether or not to take Girlfriend out to lunch to avoid messing up the house before the housekeepers come, and also because I might want to eat french fries.  The only thing is that I’m supposed to take ice cream to the school today and also I have to give a ride to another kid, so never mind, decision made.  French fries denied!  Somewhere, Michelle Obama is smiling.

Who isn’t smiling is Girlfriend, who is jumping up and down on the couch and demanding that I help her get dressed so we can go to the grocery store and buy apple juice, which we have run out of.  Her patience wears thin, and the blog fodder wears thinner.  Gentle readers, adieu.