Today is my last day of Spring Break. I have spent it doing very useful things, and doing those things in my jammies. I have put a turkey in the oven, changed my clothes closet over from heavy serious winter garments to lighter, sherbety-colored springy attire, and even made inroads into the sea of papers that ebb ever closer to drowning my keyboard entirely. Looking to take a break from it all, at one point I wandered into the livingroom where my eldest was conferring with his father, who was in danger of nodding off in the recliner.
Eldest: Dad! We have more cap room than anyone else in the league. But we need a running back really bad.
Father: Hmm. Is Ruben Droughns available?
Eldest: Good idea. (Pause.) He's in the last year of his contract. The Jets have him locked up.
Father: Well. So then. Not gonna do us any good.
I did a quick U-turn and headed off into the other room to check on the younger son. As I neared the doorway, I heard explosions and gunfire. I could have sworn I heard the phrase "jerry rotter."
Me: (to back of son's head) Sam! What are you doing?
Sam: (without turning around, expressionless) Shooting people.
>Sigh.<
I am boring. I play FreeCell. But right now, it's time to baste.
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