Tomorrow morning I shall wake and I shall feed two of my three children peanut-butter waffles (Zoe gets fruit in a jar). I shall also eat peanut-butter waffles, but mine will have secret chocolate chips. We shall have nothing microwaved (our microwave is broken) or refrigerated (our refrigerator is also broken). We shall then proceed to inflate in our back yard one (1) large rubber and canvas structure known most commonly 'round these parts as a "bounce house."
Bouncing will ensue. I may even allow the kids a turn. We'll see.
We're throwing a little party for the daycare kids tomorrow. Several weeks ago we had a little fund-raiser where the kids sold candles to their grandmas and grandpas and to their parents' coworkers and to their neighbors and to their neighbors' grandparents and coworkers. Well, we earned enough money to rent a bounce house, hire a clown to paint faces, and even had a little left over for a new bubble-machine. So, tomorrow, weather permitting, we're gonna totally piss off the neighbors. But let's be honest. Any neighbor who's gonna get pissed off by bounce houses, clowns, and bubble machines isn't exactly the kind of neighbor you necessarily feel the need to keep happy. In fact, one finds pleasure in raising the blood pressure of such uptight individuals. But, fortunately, we don't have any neighbors like that.
And if it rains? I shall bounce alone. And possibly naked.
Thank you,
Matt Beers
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