Man I love Calvin & Hobbes. What a fantastic comic. The kids love it too. I'm proud of this--the varmunts've got good taste. I get indignant when I see the knock-off Calvins on pickup trucks, urinating on this or that, or praying beneath the ominous shadow of a cross. Submit Calvin! Submit to the instrument of the Messiah's death! No wait...go tinkle on a Ford logo. Bleh.
This is headed nowhere other than I was just smiling to myself at Harrison's laughter in the other room. Amanda was reading a few of the strips to him while Giselle sawed logs in the other bed. I'm dead serious, that sweet little whisp of a girl can snore like a 300 pound, comatose binge drinker. Man I've got to get these poor kids into their own separate bedrooms. But you see, it's a huge rusty, interlinked chain of chores. Getting Harrison in the other room means clearing that other room out. The spare bedroom. The room where all the STUFF that has no place else to go is STACKED. Like a thousandth scale Manhattan, complete with skyscrapers, narrow boulevards and slums waiting to be tear-gassed, it waits there behind the CLOSED door. So, ok, clean that out to make room for Harrison. But to clear it out, you see, you need another place to put those goodies. And where do we, in the spacious realms of North America, put all our goodies? In the garage, right? The garage that I enclosed, but never put doors on. Because goodness knows I'd like to get that thing secured so I can park my car OUTSIDE at night. (I'm playing with all-capped emphasis words tonight, in case you were wondering.) And so, installing doors involves diving into another construction project I have no previous experience with. Also the electricity. The main garage door requires electricity. So, that needs hooked up. On & on.
So, maybe bunk beds.
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