Now that Mike has finished the Husky Den, the once clear purple walls are lined with very important items, like my honors senior thesis because who knows when I need to pull out my detailed analysis of the Victorian child and what if we have a Victorian literature emergency? WHO WILL HELP YOU THEN? No one expects a Crimean War, I tell you!
Mike has been threatening to get rid of the jogging stroller because, um, Nathan’s never asked to be in it so it’s all his fault. Way to take initiative, firstborn! So I’ve been singing “Jogging all the time, jogging all the time, jogging all the tiiiime,” to the tune of Eddie Murphy’s “Party All The Time,” because you know what? My husband actually likes that song which is surprising because it isn’t classic rock and there is no quadraphonic sound. Wait. Is there? I haven’t listened to it all the way through and don’t try to convince me that the bridge is awe-inspiring because this is Eddie Murphy, creator of NORBIT. I actually don’t know the lyrics to many songs, but that does not stop me from singing them and providing my own words, which Mike often corrects with, “It’s not ‘who can pee now.’ It’s ‘who can it be now.'”
Speaking of music, at the red-light the other day, a white car pulled up next to me with its bass beating against the rolled-up quaking windows. So what did I do? Turned up the Shins, shot a look back like, “OH YEAH THAT’S THE GARDEN STATE SOUNDTRACK. BOO-YAH!”