While theother23 is home, there's a whole lot of blog fodder, but little time to get any of it down. Ideas come into my head, write themselves into nice little stories, and then dissolve. Forever. Lost in the matter known as Jodi's brain.
That would explain why there is no room left for things like remembering people's names, when that bill was due, or why I opened up the fridge in the first place.
That being said, it's morning and everyone either just got dressed or is REdressing now. (Scratch that, they are BOTH redressing right now, second time for X and third time for TO23.) When it comes to those two, theother23 and X, they couldn't be more alike with their wardrobe ... right down to baseball caps, stained shirts, and alternating between five items of clothing while ignoring the other 200 things that I hang, organized by type and color, in their closets.
Things that have come out of my mouth already this morning?
"No, not the grubby jeans!"
"You can't wear the jersey that says 'Satan' today."
"Did you leave ALL your decent clothes in Oregon?"
"Why are you wearing work pants? We're going to be shopping."
"Christ, untuck that shirt."
"Geez, you two both have such nice clothes that I have forced you to pick out, please wear them."
"You are NOT wearing the John Deere hat to the store."
"Go back upstairs. Find the grey pinafore shirt. Wear that."
"You may wear your high tops."
Oh. My. God. My husband just walked out here with a white button-up shirt tucked into a pair of jeans with an obtuse black belt. He's wearing beat-up Vans. (Think ... skate-boarding cowboy circa 1983.) I belly-laughed for approximately 193 seconds.
Now, I'm going to curl into a fetal position, whimper inconsolably, and pull the hair out of my head five strands at a time.