Sunday, April 27, 2008

Ready, Set......

We open the fridge-there is no milk.
Where's the milk?
We need the milk!

It is 9:45pm on Sunday night and the race has begun:
Who can change into comfy clothes/pajammys first so THEY don't have to do the late night store run? (Last man standing fully dressed "gets" to go to the store.)

I will not be surprised to be lobbied with a change of rules in favor of a Rock-Paper-Scissors challenge upon David's return.


  1. Yeah, Jeff had to make a run earlier. Your blog has given him ideas about having choices. Could you not go there? I've got a good thing going here.

  2. Oh man, don't you hate when it's your turn and you're on the brink of getting your late night rest on??

  3. The humor in this piece is entirely derived from the mental image of the two of you frantically throwing jammies on...good stuff, Miss Thany, good stuff.

  4. In the rush to get your pj's on, I'm thinking that 'bread' was somehow forgotten and left off the list. :)

  5. You are mostly correct Deanne...except that because David lost the race and did the shopping, I ended up the loser because I would have remembered the bread.

  6. Hi Bethany. Thanks so much for your comment on my blog. It was so encouraging. I will definitely take your advice. Thanks again - I appreciate it so much!!

  7. Thany, you are hilarious. I have enjoyed perusing your blog! Oh, and your chitlens are completely adorable too.

    Feel free to link anything you like from my site! I'm always pleased, flattered, humbled, and in awe of God's goodness when something I write touches someone else.

    Blessings to you,
    Jenni/One Thing

  8. LOL! I can't tell you how often Gene and I have sat down on the couch after the kids were in bed and had the following conversation...

    Me: Crap!
    DH: What's wrong?
    Me: There's nothing to drink.
    DH: *heavy sigh* I'll go to Sheetz.
    Me: *heavier sigh* No, that's ok, you're not dressed,... (or) No, that's ok, you already took your shoes off, I'll go.
    DH: No, I'll go get you something.

    10, 15, or 20 minutes later...

    DH: I'm still here.
    Me: That's ok, I'll go.
    DH: No, see, I'm moving... (doesn't budge)
    Me: I'll go, I don't want you to have to go out.
    DH: No, I said I was going to go. I'm going.