Brown Feet

At this very moment Wes and I are in my bed both typing away on our laptops. Isn't that romantic??

We have moved, and moved, and moved. In fact I would say we have been in moving purgatory. Note to self: small cute houses are not always appropriate for growing families. If I had a magic wand I would wish for closets and drawers. Big empty ones!

Funny moving story. At least according to everyone ELSE it is funny. Saturday I wore brown flipflops. Brown REEF flipflops that are incidentally quite expensive. Down came the rain (and a little bit of hail) and I had to run to save my new buggy and three dogs too dumb to come in out of the rain...and I incidentally got drenched. I wore the shoes the rest of the day and getting ready for bed I happened to look down and see that I had the dirtiest, been walking shoeless through Walmart, feet. Oh, but I thought they were just dirty. Upon closer inspection I realized that my ACTUAL FEET had turned doo doo brown.

I scrubbed and soaped and loofahed and then I flat gave up. I'm too tired to care if my feet are brown.