In which I chronicle the day-to-day tribulations of living with two (more-or-less) adult boys as my wife trots around Europe for two weeks.
So today-- eh, skip it.
When I started this series of stupid posts it was supposed to be a humorous (and obviously fictitious) look at three nominally civilized males turning feral due to the absence of the lady of the house. Today's post was going to be about running out of beer, but that would have really required a suspension of disbelief. Grinding penne pasta down to get rid of the beveled edges? Sure. Running out of beer? Not a chance.
I have a good sense of humor, but that doesn't necessarily translate into being able to fire off good comedy - or even mediocre comedy - off the top of my head. I imagine that even for a comedy writer, that takes some thought and a bit of work.
Between work (my paying job, that is), cleaning, cooking, looking after two boys (who are old enough to look after themselves but probably won't), and making sure a dog and two cats don't actually turn feral, I just don't have the time to come up with truly funny stuff. Suffice it to say that I've developed a new appreciation for single parents.
In case you were wondering, the last few posts were supposed to have been increasingly incoherent ramblings about scavenging for food and making loin cloths from the pelts of neighbors' pets. The last post was to have been a simple "Ook!".
Anyway, Ms. Pool Bar will be back in a few more days, so I guess I'd better start cleaning up the mess from all those sacrifices to the Moon God.