Procrastination at It's Finest

Like the responsible parent I am, I've decided to wait until the last few hours before the government employee who is single-handily responsible for deciding on whether my husband and I are fit parents arrives at my house with her white gloves to start inspecting the premises, to actually get off my keister and start to clean.

I thrive under pressure. I have to sweep, mop, shove clothes under the bed, toys into closets and create a 12 page photo album (yep, pics of my family) all before the nice, underpaid-no-sense-of-humor-I'm-so-screwed lady arrives on my doorstep.

(I'm hoping the neighbor's Rottweiler decides to stay home instead of perching his scary ass on my deck like my personal gargoyle because I forgot to warn her of his predilection for guarding my door instead of his owners abode.)

But before I start the mad scramble to get everything in order, like any good blogger, I had to check my email. And imagine my surprise when I discovered that I was nominated for not one, but two blogging awards.

Not that there is any hope in hell that I'd actually win either of these awards since only about a zillion people are in each category and I have NO votes, but still, it's always nice that someone took the time to actually nominate me.

Every girl likes a little bling in the sidebar. I've needed a new button to post in my new digs. Now I have two.

Who needs to impress the uptight government employee who is responsible for my future family size and immediate mental health when I've got shiny buttons?

Pet them, they won't bite.

But I may. (Ask Boo.)

***Oh, if you're looking for a real post, try yesterday's. My son may not be permanently scarred, but you can bet my lily white ass is.***