I am home.
In my house.
Typical sort of fashion....
The Collective have discovered "poopie" is an insult.
Sir Rowland, fell asleep 10 minutes away from our town, after fighting sleep for 10 hours.
We made it to the grocery store ASAP, only to hear "there is a tree coing down in your front yard". This from the (neighbor who had the baby in the driveway) Sister.... That is really nice news to hear first thing out of the "truwk".
I then proceed home, with my truck goceries, a freezer full of meat (bought in Nebraska) the deep freeze, kids that NEED to pee, 3 suitcases, a dresser and chest of drawers that need to be unloaded, ad naseum....
Then my INSANE neighbor (who only leaves her house to talk to me, it seems) comes running across the street like she has a dire emergency. DIRE folks. I have not ever seen this woman run this fast. She comes running, one arm flailing. She then announces "AWTM AWTM, darling...I thought the kids might like to see this egg I just found."
She is lucky she is not walking funny. 10 hours is a long time to be locked up on a drive with a 3 and 5 year old.
An egg folks.
Oh and the tree is not almost down, it is the same as when I left. Thank you crazy people.