Tooth Ferry

As discussed over snack yesterday, after inquiring how Dex's loose tooth was doing, we have three working hypotheses as to the nature of the tooth fairy:

1. The tooth fairy is an actual fairy. But as Dexter pointed out, fairy's don't exist so...

2. The tooth fairy is a super good person who gives money he/she's found, comes to the door, rings the doorbell and is let in (Dexter's idea)

3. The tooth fairy is a boat (get it? See title). 

Number three was Neville's contribution. What a little punster.

CURRENT KICK #4567

All coffee/alcohol diet. 

No hyperboles necessary

How to move in 10 easy steps:

1. Decide on Saturday that you'll move on Sunday. Sleep in on Sunday.

2. Drink a quart of coffee, make pancakes, and turn up the Bob Marley tunes.

3. Have a reggae dance party.

4. Finish digging the trench in the backyard. Tap into septic system, create river of sewage in backyard. Give up and Walk Away.

5. Try to eat all the food in fridge for lunch. Discover milk of broccoli cereal is really fucking gross. Wonder why this didn't occur to you before you decided to try to eat it.

6. Miss a boat (first car to NOT get on). 

7. Take a nap.

8. Say fuckit, leave the island house a mess, grab our back packs and catch the next boat. Feel a microsecond of sentiment. Get over it. 

9. Eat out: notice that child number three is only wearing a plaid shirt, diaper, and one rubber boot. Start trashing the joint like rockstars when the food takes one too many minutes to arrive.  

10. Discover: New house has no hot water downstairs, no cold water upstairs, a completely plugged kitchen sink, a layer of drywall dust still on everything, and that Neville has a raging fever. 

Am shocked that my eyes feel they are going to pop right out of my head. Laugh it off. Like a wild animal.

Wishes

I wish I could say that we've successfully moved to our new house and spend all of our now free time stolen from boat rides doing things like making gourmet meals and sitting around with relaxed smiles on our faces. I wish I could say that I found a pot of gold. I wish I could say that I know what I'm doing with my life. I wish I could tell you that I've done all the work I need to do and am On Top Of IT. I wish I could say that I've been going to the gym everyday for four hours and that my abs are so strong that I have to buy new shirts cause they keep ripping out of all the shirts I own. I wish I could claim my diet is nutritionally sound and didn't consist almost entirely of Tim Horton's meals (our national coffee shop). I'd love to be able to claim I didn't get drunk last night. Or eat one too many free veggie burgers. I wish I could regale you with stories of self composure, cool and calm. Or a semblance of self-control. 

But alas. I cannot. And fuckit. I'm okay with that.