if you buy two more of these, you can get one free, would you like to go grab some? that I decided it wasn’t worth the bother. Personally, I prefer my salesclerks to be available, but if I need or want help, I’ll let them know. I was sitting in front of the television last night making snarky comments to myself about the Cindy Crawford Pepsi commercial ("That’s right, Cindy, leave the kids ALONE in a steaming-hot truck so you can get a nice cool Pepsi and cavort around in your short-shorts in front of a bunch of little boys!"), when I remembered something that happened when the spud was about 6 months old. I had dropped her off at my parents’ house, because they were going to watch her while I worked for four or five hours. On my way from their house to work, I stopped at a convenience store to get a bottle of Coke, and when I came out of the store and went to get in the car, I caught sight of the base of the spud’s car seat, and for a brief, sickening moment I FORGOT that I had dropped her off at my parents’ house and was absolutely convinced for some reason that I had left her in her car seat on the back of the car while I was putting something in the front seat, and forgot that she was there, then drove off with her on the back of the car, and she was smushed and dead somewhere on the road. I don’t know WHY I was so convinced that I’d done such a thing, because I never put her car seat on the back of the car that I can remember, and I was always very conscientious about putting her in the car first thing before worrying about arranging anything else.

I guess I was a doofus even way back then. I was relieved to see that my current favorite girl on The Bachelor, Amanda, is still in the running. I don’t think she’s going to make it past next week though, because I don’t think she’s enough of a challenge for Alex the Serial Smoocher, and he made it clear last night after Shannon‘s hissy fit that he likes a difficult woman. I hope I’m wrong, though. Miz Poo’s favorite place to hang out in the back yard is amongst my dead daffodils (click on the picture to see the full-sized version): Fred had his staples removed yesterday along with two of the four drains, and though I accompanied him to his appointment, the entire time the doctor was removing the staples and drains, I sat in a corner of the room (in a chair), in a practically fetal position, with my toes curled so tight that my calves ached when I woke up this morning. I think it’s safe to say that I’m a bit squeamish. I’ll LOOK at the scars and the drains and all that stuff, but I don’t really want to TOUCH the scars, lest I cause pain, or something goopy get on me. Actually, I don’t mind goopy things getting on me (get your minds out of the gutters, pervs), because I had to actually touch a boogery, bloody looking thing to remove it from the hole of Fred’s drain over the weekend and wasn’t icked out at all, but the idea of touching Fred’s less-than-a-week-old scars just gives me the shivers. And not in a good way.