Mild summer cold. Check.
Letting young artists have free reign of the dining room table. Check.
Hubby caught up in a novel, needing downtime. Check.
VBX finale/BBQ/horse rides/kids never want to leave. Evah. Check.
Beds stripped, sheets in dryer. Check.
Best idea all day: Let's go see The Dark Knight.
So, we did. And after 2 hours and 45 minutes of homicidal clowns and knights of various colors, I check my cell phone and listen to the message three times because I can't seem to register that just minutes before the movie ended, someone opened up our front door and is taking a look-see tour, while our home is a little south of perfect.
I hate screwing up.
Opening secret compartment of my purse to use special towelettes to wash my glasses while Greg starts the car, moments before we jet, the better to see Joker with.
You'll never guess what else I keep in there, removed in a hurry and left next to the microwave in my stupor.
Makes me so proud to be a woman. Ack.