May I Take Your Order?

Lately it seems like my life revolves around food, and not in a, "I'm going to go around the world eating maggoty cheese while everyone at home throws up in their mouth," TV show kinda way. Not food for myself, either. I'm lucky if I can grab two marshmallows before 1) I have to share them with T or 2) someone starts screaming hysterically in the other room and I have to run in there and yell "what's going on?" only it sounds more like, "wfutshs going thon?" because my mouth is full of sugary goop.

I'm talking about feeding the munchkins. Gracie nurses every two hours. T eats every two hours. I stuff food in my face whenever I have a free hand. Essentially, I have become a human vending machine. Or a 24 hour snack bar. Or a drive-up window. I haven't even had to do much cooking thanks to mom (thanks, Mom!). It just feels like all we do is eat. No housework. No hobbies. Just eating. And then eating. And then eating some more.

Honestly, it's not so bad. I just need to get the type-A part of me back into its straight jacket. I need to remember it doesn't matter if there's dog hair stuck to a glob of three-day-old jelly on the wall. Who cares?

My inner crazy person, that's who.

While I caterwaul with these multiple personalities, enjoy this almost completely-unrelated-to-the-topic-at-hand-but-still-hilarious commercial:

I think I just killed a grammar fairy with all those hyphens.