It’s not like they’re going to clean themselves. Wait. Will they?

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I’m sitting in front of my keyboard willing my hands to work their creative magic.

Um.

I got nothin.

Instead the Lady Gaga song, Alejandro, keeps playing in my head. On repeat. Which sucks because I absolutely detest that song.

Oh my god, make it stop!

Quick. I need something else to think about. But what?

I look around the room. And then at my feet. I’m in desperate need of a pedicure.

I turn away and look outside. It’s hard to see anything because of all the four year old handprints on the windows. You understand the handprints haven’t been there for four years but rather made by a four year old. Just so we’re clear. Not that it really matters I guess. They’re still there. And for all I know they could have been there for four years. Now that I think about it I don’t remember ever cleaning these windows before. Ever.

I suppose I should clean the windows.

And get a pedicure.

Here. Look at this picture of the love of my life.

But don’t pay any attention to the giant man arm in the photo. Yes, it’s mine. No, I did not know I have giant man arms. But thanks for pointing it out.

Make sure you check out my post over at Aiming Low today. It’s called My life as a giant pink marshmallow.