I have much to write about, but little time. My computer encountered a little glitch that required too much of my time, so I'll return to blogging tomorrow.
I will tell you this. I won the bad parenting award for 2003 yesterday because of my computer problems. At the apex of my frustration I let loose a stream of words that would make Joe Pesci blush. Never has a more foul and wretched sequence of profanity been unleashed in this household.
Lo and behold, it was heard. Later that evening I received a glare from my wife that put icecubes in my veins. There she was, sweet little Gertrude, sitting at the table playing with Play-Dough. When she decided that she did not want to work on a piece anymore, she shoved it away and gleefully said . . .
"F*** it!"
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