My house doesn't look all that different, however, but I know it's cleaner. I scrubbed the bathroom down because it was in dire need of a good scrubbing, and even got on my hands and knees to scrub all the hairspray off the floor.

If I don't use mass quantities of hairspray, my hair ends up flat and in my eyes in ten minutes. I also can't use that flexible hold hairspray. It has to be the freeze spray or else it really doesn't hold.

I have the weirdest hair.

I vacuumed the entire house and organized my basket of mail. A loooooooong time ago, four years ago when we were driving from Virginia here to Washington, we made a detour through Huntsville, Alabama, where my sister was staying at the time. Her husband works for the FAA, and it's only been recently that she's been able to buy a home and stay in one place. Michele had gotten us a reservation at a nice hotel, and she'd gone in to the room ahead of us and made it homey with food in the mini-fridge and nice decorative touches. She had even bought a basket at Target and filled it with snacks. That basket now sits in my kitchen and acts as a catch-all for all kinds of random crap. It holds a lot, too, which is a good thing because I only clean it out every couple of months. This time I found bills I need to pay and some cards folks had sent me for various reasons. Now it's back to only half-full, and my bills are set up to be paid by my bank.

Organization is a lovely thing.

I also managed to clean up the garage a bit. I had been guilty of just chucking empty boxes in the garage willy-nilly, something I always get on Kurt's case about. But since I know I'm going to be the one to clean them up, I haven't been all that motivated to collapse them and get them ready for recycling. Now they're all in the recycling bin, and the workbench is straightened up. I even picked up some of the packing peanuts that my cats had so kindly strewn all over the floor.

I didn't have to mop my floor today because I just did it two days ago.

But you know, I don't get how people can do housework in the nude. Sure, I understand the theory -- you get all hot and sweaty and nasty while you're cleaning; why not just do it while in the nude?? When I was mopping the floor a couple of nights ago, I had already showered and changed into my nightgown, which meant I was as close to being in the nude as I was going to get.

The problem is, things jiggle. And when you're as well-endowed as I am in the chestal region, jiggling is very uncomfortable.

I think I shall just have to be clothed while I do my housework. I'm sure you'll appreciate that.

So it's April Fool's Day. I never did understand this day. I'm not creative enough to come up with a good prank, and I actually don't much like pranks anyhow. If someone can fool me, I end up feeling stupid, that I should have seen it coming. I'm not a fan of feeling stupid. I also don't like being the cause of someone feeling stupid. For me, pranks aren't any fun.

I had a boyfriend in high school once (the one you and I both dated, Caroline!) who told his mother on April Fool's that his new girlfriend was pregnant. He was only about 15 at the time, so that would have been a pretty good prank if his mother had fallen for it.

His mother replied, "Honey, Sue's [or whatever her name was] not pregnant. Your penis isn't that long!"

His girlfriend lived in a whole 'nother county, you see.

Now THAT is funny.

I don't think she said "penis" either, which makes it that much funnier. You don't expect folks to use vulgar terms to their kids. But Mrs W was a pretty cool lady. She had given birth to her two eldest sons (although she had miscarried the very first one, a fact she tells anyone who'll listen), adopted another son and a daughter (not blood-related to each other), and fostered anywhere between two and four additional children. When I was first good friends with my ex-boyfriend, she had one infant named Mark, and my baby brother, who was also good friends with this family, asked my mom and dad if we could adopt this baby, and if we did, he'd give up his first name of Mark so the baby could have it.

He was a damn cute baby too. I'll have to find a photo of him.

He was with his foster family because he was neglected. He was an African-American baby, and his brother had died because he'd suddenly stopped breathing. It could have been SIDS; I'm not sure they were diagnosing a whole lot of babies in the early 90s with SIDS. But his mother couldn't or wouldn't take care of him, so he was removed from his home and given over to his foster family. He was on a heart monitor 24/7, which I set off more than once by tripping over the wire. He also had some kind of breathing issue; he had to use an inhaler, one of those baby ones. He was about three months old when this family got him. I loved that baby. I would go over to my friend's house just to play with and hold that baby. I would even change his diaper without complaint! Of course, I was an expert at changing diapers, since I'd done so many diaper changes with my brother.

I wonder what happened to him.......

Enjoy your day!