Well, now, Summer feels as I do about the nincompoop who started the 30 Minute Delay Collaboration fiasco. She didn’t remember either; we pulled up to school and I said, “Oh, Summer, it’s Wednesday.” I won’t quote Summer; suffice it to say she now feels the passion of the Resistance.

And, then, of course, there was Sydney who had to wait a half hour to go to the FG.

The water heater man is here and so it is out with old and in with the new and let’s hope there’s a hot time in the ole town tonight.

At this moment my pajama pants are nice and soft on my legs – the feel of quality flannel. They happen to have snowflakes on them by that is okay; I’m not looking at them. But in a few minutes I will have to take Summer to school, Sydney to the fairgrounds and then the appointment for the installation of the new water heater is at 8:30. I could do the taking to school and the fairgrounds in pajama pants, but I’m not happy with the idea of the water heater guys.

So the flannel will be reluctantly shed for denim. Considering I spent about seven hours yesterday dealing with mowers, gas, remedial ramping to get the mowers out of the shed and what must be record-setting growing grass (and weeds), I am going to have to trick my legs into jeans.

Is it illegal to shout “FIRE OF THE PANTS” in an uncrowded porch?