Yesterday, I’m walking my kids into school, and as I passed a group of Moms one of them says, “Heather, great top.”  Which was weird because it was just a white t-shirt.  But I guess, compared to my normal baggy sweats ensemble, I looked dressed up.  And the only reason I wasn’t wearing the sweats is because I didn’t have time to wash them.  Come to think of it, the hot new gym teacher said hi to me, too.  I may have stumbled on something here… like taking five minutes to look in the mirror occasionally wouldn’t be such a bad idea.  Maybe my broken home status isn’t tattooed on my forehead.

On the home front, my garbage disposal won’t work, which is timed nicely to coincide with my leaky faucet.  Holy crap, my home is broken!  Guess you can’t fool your appliances.

The kids are going to their dad's this weekend.  Time for a hot date and some foolin' around. Right.  So far my plans include renting "Terms of Endearment" and going to the market to get some Cherry Garcia.  I am totally lame.  But that's heaven compared to late Sunday night.  That's when the kids present the "dad's new wife report"  which includes a list of all the presents she gave them, and a description of all the crap she let them eat. 

Is it just me, or is that bag boy at the market really cute?  I think his face is finally clearing up.  Maybe I'll let him help me to the car next time.