Fun thing: I'm having lunch with Patti and Kim tomorrow, before heading to Oakville to have dinner with my friend Elaine before heading back to London to collect my daughter, who has only called me ONCE, and only because my sister MADE her. Can I just say that this 'having confident, independent children' thing is ASS? Also, I was trying to remember the name of Kim's blog today so I could email her to confirm for lunch, and I knew it was a cool play on a word that started with Im but for the blog it started with Kim, and all I could think of was this.
(It's Kimperative. I love that. Don't you love that? I should change my name).
Not-so-fun thing: The unholy godforsaken demon-gassing stench emanating from my son's baseball socks. Good Christ, will no one save us from this appalling reek? The minute he gets home he has to take them off and put them in the laundry room and rinse his feet off if he's not showering immediately. The other day someone on Twitter wrote "when people write 'words cannot describe it' they just mean that THEY'RE not capable of using words to describe it". Fuck you, whoever wrote that - I defy you to come up with words bad enough to describe this smell.
Seriously. It's not even that they just smell like something has died - it's that when you smell them, YOU WANT TO.