Seven Sentences for Sunday: The Final 33 Edition

  1. The next time I write my Seven Sentences, I’ll be 34…an unsavory number that I hope belies its optimistic truth.
  2. I felt less alone eating by myself at BW3’s tonight than I have in a long time. I might be getting the hang of this single woman on the loose thing again after an unfortunate 6 month hiatus.
  3. The kids are gone for the week and the thought of cleaning the apartment from floor to ceiling, carpet to linoleum has me ecstatic. It’s a shame I gave my pearls to my sister–I could’ve had a true Donna Reed moment, albeit a shit-kicking, single lady rocking out to tunes on the radio while vacuuming one.
  4. I have for my entire life thought Van Halen’s “Panama” was Def Leppard’s “Animal” simply based on the chorus. I just this very moment realized how very wrong I was–only because it’s on the radio and a few weeks ago I insisted to a lead singer of an 80’s cover band that he had indeed played “Animal” because I heard it. Never argue with a rocker in a hair-band wig.
  5. With going back to school becoming a very real possibility, I’m already getting excited about signing up for classes and meeting new professors. I need a lifetime scholarship for all the classes I’d love to take.
  6. Paisley has officially claimed the potty mouth of the family title: Today during a tantrum at the mall she called me both an idiot AND a moron. I honestly have no idea where she got those words from.
  7. The Doomsday prediction of May 21 was moved to October 21st, the day before my birthday, so maybe my fear of 34 will be completely moot. I guess I should eat cake on Friday just to be sure.
I love you all, some more than others.

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