Dinner in the Bathtub, and other maternal misfortunes

I ate my dinner in the bathtub last night. Because, by the time dinner was ready, Jeopardy was already over. It was that kind of a day.

Calgon? Calgon?!? CALGON!

I can’t reach the nifty pillow built in to my bathtub, by the way. I’m too short. Both Husband and towering, statuesque Bestie Courtney tell me it’s quite lovely. #hobbitproblems

Speaking of bath water, our pure, clean, “free” well water is really anything but… we have now spent an outrageous sum on softening, filtering, and iron removal. It’s so ridiculously treated by the time it exits the spout that I’m afraid to drink it and have started buying cases of bottled water at Costco.

I also bought a case of hard cider at Costco (and neglected to put a single bottle in the fridge to chill in time for Bathtub Supper), and discovered that flautist daughter is able to play a bottle like her flute.

Don’t even judge, it’s music.

Of course I made said Costco run on the day the contractor finally finished our concrete, so I had to park the sexy minivan in front of the neighbors’ and precariously muscle several giant boxes of groceries over wet cement in ballet flats.