Maybe it's the neverending rain but everyone in the house seems to have become a little bit shack-wacky. I might be the worst.
This morning I pulled on my favorite old jeans. Then I checked the mirror and wtf. The jeans are too short. Maybe they're not the right ones so I ripped them off and tried a second pair. Same thing.
Oh my God. Could it be?
I push Ben out of the way and run past him down the hall and yell for him to hurry up. I stand very straight with my back to the wall, where the children's growth chart hangs.
So? So? I start jumping up and down.
Ben bursts out laughing. No, Bridget. Your head still stops at the 5-foot mark.
GODDAMMIT.
He's still laughing.
I'm never letting PJ touch my clothes ever again. Doesn't he know you can't put cotton in the dryer by now?
I think maybe he did it on purpose just for that one shining moment.
Fuck PJ and his fucking shining moments.
I heard that! PJ yells from downstairs.
GOOD! YOU'VE CRUSHED MY DREAMS, YOU FUCKING PRICK!
The whole entire house laughed at that. God, we're something. I hope the rain stops soon or I might put PJ in the dryer to see what happens. I'll keep you posted.
