Which just about sums up the kind of day I've had.
But, with my head and shoulders in the oven, gingerly picking up all the sparkling pieces of Pyrex (after a Plan B dinner of crappy, store-bought fried chicken), I thought to myself...
"Oooooo, it's like I've found a DIAMOND MINE and I'm harvesting all the diamonds out of the cave!"
Which, incidentally, is NOT the kind of pretending game that is appropriate to play with a 3 1/2 year old.
Unless, you know, she's wearing mittens. And sunglasses.
Safety First around here, people!
And if that wasn't enough of a bummer, when I whirled around to dispose of my diamond treasure, I came face to face with this...
The cupcakes that Priss and I had made for Daddy...
ooooooooh, about three weeks ago.
"Do you think we should throw 'em out?" Hubs had inquired for the past couple of days, "they're probably pretty stale by now."
But I wasn't going to be the one to make the call on the mass execution of mini-cupcakes.
And I wasn't going to be the one to eat them all, either.
Hubs manned-up and did what had to be done.
And laid them all to rest in a mass grave.
Which was the most unexpected and saddest sight I'd seen since, well, since viewing the oven-fried chicken fiasco I slaved all of 10 minutes to prepare.
<*sigh*>
But I love how the two cupcakes in the back look like they're trying to escape.
"If you just give me a boost, I can get us all outta here!"
Ha!
