I am trying too hard

I spent about forty-five minutes in the kitchen preparing a cool painting project for my kids to today. It took them about eleven minutes to tire of this activity, I now have a green blob of paint on the light carpet. Oh well. They are more interested in building prate ships with blocks and singing Jingle Bells while beating on the wall, the oven doo, the window . . . . anything.

The season of the cockroach has begun. Last night, after reading awhile in bed, I reached over to turn out the light, and there it was: gigantic, huge, three-inch long cockroach looking right at me. We moved most of the furniture in the bedroom before getting that one with a book. (NOT a book of poetry.) Then I couldn't go asleep because I was afraid that another would crawl in my mouth. (Around here, the legend is tht for every one cockroach you see there are 400 others hiding somewhere near.)

By the way, I don't live in filth. The rain brings these in, and we got four-inches or more yesterday.