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Double your pleasure

I know this is unprecedented, but today is a Magical Day here in Puddinville. You get two, count them, not one, but two, 2(!) new entries in the same day.

Now would be a good time to catch your breath. I know it’s shocking. Go ahead; breathe into a bag or something. I’ll wait.

Ok, good. So, I’ll come clean and admit that it’s not really two entirely new posts today. This previously posted piece of prose was conceived yesterday evening. I wrote roughly a third of it then, but was too tired to finish it. In the interest of doing a good job, then, I waited until today to give it all the TLC it needed. It was kind of fun to write from a jerk’s point of view. I hope someone out there is entertained, if not appalled by it.

Truth be told, I blame the Puddinette for last night’s lack of production. We actually sat down together, on the same couch, simultaneously, to watch a TV show. As I believe I’ve mentioned before, our respective tastes in entertainment are not frequently coincident, so on the rare occasion when there is a show available that we’ll both tolerate, I DVR (yes, that is a verb) it for quality together time. Unfortunately, there really hasn’t been much on for us to watch together since the Olympics started, which is one reason I haven’t had more trouble keeping my Puddintopia-related promises. And yes, thank you for asking, I am on track to hit my “300 posts in a year” target.

To some degree, it’s probably a good thing that there hasn’t been anything on for us to watch. It seems like whenever we spend quality time together with a TV show, I end up with another mouth to feed a few months down the road. I haven’t figured out exactly what causes that yet, but I’ll get to the bottom of it sooner or later. The good Lord knows that if there’s anything I need, it definitely isn’t another mouth to feed. That’s not to say I’m opposed to babies, per se; I think I’ve done an admirable job demonstrating the ability to nurture them and keep them from wallowing in their own filth or setting fire to the house. I’ve gotten four kids this far and no one’s gone to jail, yet.

Nowadays, though, if you have five children, people look at you in grocery stores and wonder if:

  1. you’re one of those crazy religious zealots,
  2. you’re bucking for your own TV show, or
  3. your family is the product of some kind of Brady-esque multi-divorce and remarriage scam – for tax purposes or something
  4. you’re just too stupid to figure it,

So, until I mention otherwise, assume I’m content being the guy who’s just crazy enough to have four kids. Five is an entirely different type of certifiable, in my mind, and I’m not ready for the straight jacket. Also, I believe that if we were to entertain another visit from The Stork, my house might sink into the ground from the weight of the laundry. Seriously, I’m not sure who’s leaving the weekly metric ton of clothing in the hampers around here, but either there’s a fraternity living in my basement that sneaks whole duffel bags of soiled garments into our laundry cycle or we’re cleaning uniforms for the neighborhood Oompa-Loompas. And yes, fear of succumbing to an avalanche of laundry is a perfect good reason to not have any more children. I’m sure Dr. Phil agrees with me.

Wow, got off the topic there. Anyway, now you know why there was no post yesterday and two today, for what it’s worth.

pud’n

One comment on “Double your pleasure

  1. […] the hotel bar longer than is really prudent. It’s enough to wear out the neighborhood Oompa Loompas, let alone me. I’m ready to get home, kick off my shoes, slip into my recliner, and fall […]

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