Why does stuff make me "happy"?
Why can't I seem to use my time more wisely?
Why did I wait so long to pay my $22 library fine?
Why is my scrapbooking desk an enormous mess?
Why can't there be an invisible shield around my front porch to keep all of the pollen off?
Why can't it be much, much easier to leave the house with three kids?
Why is our library so freaking cool about having three little kids running around in it (well, minus Sabriel, she can't really run around. Yet.) ?
Why do kind people get taken advantage of?
Why haven't I finished making my rolodex cards for the swap at the
Why do the
have to move to Mississippi?
Why can marriage be so hard sometimes?
Why do the little rolly pirate skulls from the Happy Meals make me laugh?
Why does my husband put up with my shenanigans?
And why does he continue to laugh at my "Wachovia" joke? Oh wait. He doesn't. That's me that still laughs at it. hehe
Why did I have to tell Atticus FIVE TIMES THIS MORNING, "Stop asking me to put on your tiara!!"?
And why does this make me wonder exactly how secure he is in his masculinity? ;)
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