Death by Potato

I was trying to put myself to sleep last night while writing an entry in my head.

That seems to sum up how hilarious I am if I can put my own self to sleep by doing this.

In other news. I found the object of death that was in my garage. I hadn't mentioned it before, because, hey, I had such more important things to talk about, like my expertise parenting skills.

Remember this? It seems a few weeks ago that this smell had somehow creeped back into my life. I was careful to turn the A/C and any vent-air-blowing off in my car before I pulled into the garage and would shuffle everyone madly into the house before the smell had a chance to permeate into my nose hairs.

We would rush out into the garage and exclaim how deathly it smelled, and "what died out here? It has to be a rodent."

I managed to get a few wild hairs this weekend and organized and cleaned up the girls' bedrooms AND cleaned out my car. While I was dragging the vacuum cleaner to the passenger side of my car...the stronger smelling death side of the car, I found a bag of potatoes. A bag of potatoes that apparently died. I knew they could horrify me when they sprouted eyes and ears and shit, but to actually die? Oh yes, they died. They died right next to the empty hamster cage no less. It was fitting to see that the same smell could eminate from the same area. Hamster/Potato...they are about the same size and color. And who knew they could produce the same smell?

I cleaned it all up, while holding back the acid burn in my throat and gagging. Oy, it was nasty.

Homework is done, my kids are playing nicely so it's time for a walk.

And then I get to go on another computer that has firefox installed so I can try and be tricky with some shortcuts that Safari utterly SUCKS at.