There's nothing like getting up to a quiet house and then having your peace broken by a loud coffee slurper/gulper. Such is my life and one of the crosses I must bear.
Speaking of crosses to bear, Horst turned 72 on May 30th. We celebrated yesterday because of his work schedule. Every year I make him German style porkchops and macaroni and potato salad. I always wonder how authentically German this food is, but since the Germans in my family refer to it as such, I'll take their word for it. I also made a German chocolate cake from scratch (it came out really good) and bought him a 6 pack of German beer. B and I joke that my Dad would eat a plate of feces as long as it was German. But I shouldn't tease.
In honor of my Dad turning a spry 72. I'd like to put a picture up of his superb housecleaning abilities
You're right-it's an old fucking diaper. Clean of course. My Dad lives in the basement and his bathroom is also the laundry room. As you can imagine, it gets pretty linty from time to time. The top of the trash can can get pretty bad. Horst's answer? Instead of just wiping the top of the can, he puts a goddamn rag on top to prevent it from getting dirty.
Is it me?
It's not me, right?
Ok off to a busy day of laundry, work and 1600 words to write.
Lyd is blasting Elton John top volume on her Ipod-off to intervene
Pray for me
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