The Toxic Housewife

before . . . OK, so we’ve begun to harvest a lot from the farm.  This ought to be an exciting time for me: seeing the fruits of my labor and all that.  Naturally, I choose to be irritated about it all instead.

my heart hurts It is a tragic time for the Toxic Household: I have recently learned that Mr. C and I are being dumped.

Please, enough already!  Your stony silence only serves to prove to me that you're hurting for an update on the Toxic Household.  So here it is:

I figured that, since I don't feel like working, you may not feel like working, either.  With that in mind, I bring you the following most-excellent time wasters:

You may recall a snide comment here or there in some of my previous posts about the fear that I will never, ever, for the next 18 years, get the chance to have the house to myself again.  Well . . .

7 days of baking + 12 desserts made + 3 days of housecleaning + 8 hours of table set up = 1 Major Bitch.