Sometimes life gets a little…hectic.
Please don’t ever mistake my talks of busy life to come across as complaining, because I absolutely love my life.
I love my family, my business, my community, my church, my ministries, my whole life.
Except for the animals that sometimes think they own my house.
But things have gotten to the point around here where Adam and I really have to make a strong conscious effort to communicate because we are running in a million directions.
But it’s like fine. I mean, I’m going crazy a little. But seriously. I’m fine.
So sometimes things happen and I just laugh. Like.
I just can’t even.
So the mouse droppings up in the attic?
The 274 moths I kill in my bedroom every stinking ever loving night?
The skunk that continues to get into my trash even though I try to set up booby traps?
The three-legged cat that creeps into my yard?
Ain’t no thang, people. Ain’t no thang.
So when I went up into the attic to look for more of my shoes,
(There is just not enough space for them all. Don’t judge. It’s not my fault. I love shoes. I was born that way)
I just stepped over the mice droppings and figured. Whatevs. They can run around up here for now until we eventually finish it off. They’re not bothering anyone.
And then I turned around and walked back down the stairs and thought…hmm. Something smells funny. But I’m sure it’s just my imagination.
But no. No it was not.
Sure enough. There was a furry, turned upside down, dead bat on the bottom step.
Almost as if he was just about to get into my very own personal living space and didn’t quite make it.
And ya know what?
I didn’t even scream. I didn’t even flinch really.
I closed the door behind me, and just kept moving.
And the conversation that I had with Adam as I was leaving went a little something like this.
I have a shoot at 6:30, I should be home by 8.
And p.s. There’s a dead bat on the stairs.
Love you! Bye.
And the bat thing rolled off my tongue just as if I had said…dinner is in the crock pot. Which, funny enough. Dinner was in the crock pot. That crockpot, however, had not even been turned on.
So I really could have said…some raw chicken and barbecue sauce have been sitting in the crock pot for the last 4 hours, so now if you eat it, you shall die.
What is up with that? I am so busy that I can’t even remember to hit START on the crock pot?!
It’s one button!
Ok so really. Adam told me he took care of the bat.
And we had to order out for dinner (so now everyone thinks I didn’t hit start on purpose! ha!)
And it’s all totally fine.
Just wanted to give you a little sample of what goes on over here.
Good times, peeps. Good times.