So that the kids' computer can be in the kitchen, and the kids can be permanently banned from the office, where they like to pretend they are an 80's hair band in a three-star hotel room.
(They ransack it, almost daily. Just spelling it out for you, in case my hair band metaphor wasn't super clear.)
Anyhow, so far I find the office rather uninspiring. Which could be why I haven't posted anything new in two weeks. But it could also be cause I've been gallivanting about Arizona (Payson, then Flagstaff). And I'm trying to talk the family into a trip to Mt. Graham next week. My kids have never hiked ladybug saddle, which seems a shame. Plus, Phoenix is supposed to be 113 degrees this weekend, so why stay here?
The office is not only uninspiring, but uncomfortable. Jake gave me the cruddy wooden chair, and he got the leather one. At least I got a window seat.
I think they say that if you can't think of anything interesting to say, you should type lots of other stuff.
Til you have to pee,
or you develop carpal tunnel,
or your backside goes numb cause your chair is horrible, hard, and spindly,
or you remember those generic twinkies you hid in your purse. Which is in another room.
This morning, I asked the kids: So, who wants to go to Target and get some yoga pants?
(Also, don't ask why my current yoga pants have grease stains the shape of In-n-Out fries on them. Let's just pretend the old yoga pants are worn clean out from rigorous and zealous yoga use, and have been stretched beyond their cottony-spandex limits by my constant and crazy bendiness.)
Tom replied: No, momma. I do not want yogurt pants.
Do you have a certain place you feel creative?
Do you fervently believe that yoga pants are a 21st century version of the 1950s housecoat? Because they are awesome, and you can keep a rolled up yoga mat by the front door in case the UPS guy comes, and you can throw it under one arm before you answer the door? So he'll think you are very fit, and not slovenly?
I don't actually do this. I don't have a yoga mat.
What do you wear around your casa?
Hair in rollers with a kerchief?