I’ve found my new answer for “How’s it going?” We’re living the dream. How ’bout you?

Most people ask to be polite, and even folks who truly want to know only have so much bandwidth. But given no time limitations and at least a pseudo interested listener? I’d be tempted to lob a few of these out there.

“How’s it going?”

Well, Gracie only stole half my hard boiled egg this morning and I managed to snatch her off the plate before she inhaled my toast. If I ignore the fact that I ate a breakfast speckled with dog slobber then I guess my day started off right.

On a positive note, she didn’t touch my bowl. This is l-u-c-k-y considering I tried using half and half in the grits today, a tiny tweak that changed “gee, this is pretty tasty” to “omg, so THIS is what an out of body experience feels like.” Even Gracie’s adorable mug couldn’t save her furry butt if she touched my hot, buttery, cheesy grits. Mmmm…

I’m constantly corralling one teen, one might-as-well-be teen, two dogs, and a kitten. At any given time we’re juggling hormonal rages, massive moodiness, muddy paws, clipping cat nails, allergies, stinky socks, stinky everything, trying to remember That Thing I Forgot To Do, and that damn box in the dining room we can’t seem to get rid of. Does that answer your question?

There’s a quarter inch of pollen on every outdoor surface. Tables, chairs, cars, tiles, windows, sidewalks, mailboxes, and each and every molecule making up this state. It’s thick. It’s yellow. It’s gross. And inevitably I forget we’re living in a biohazard and touch my eyeball, a mistake that leads to writhing in agony and cussing like I just wrecked my mama’s car.

Let’s see…my kid might have a mild concussion. Again. So I really feel like we’re knocking it out of the park at this parenting thing.

The upstairs toilet keeps running. And running. And running. All Freaking Day. Is it possible to lose your mind over the swooooooosssssshhhhh of outlandish water usage? No? Then I guess I’m just doing a good imitation here.

It’s going sideways. Pray for us.

Well, I pulled some weeds from a flower bed yesterday. Yes, really. Actual weeds. No, I’m not doing penance for ordering too much takeout. No, I don’t have to break bad news to the family. Oh, for heaven’s sake, can’t a girl just do something nice??

I can’t find my nail polish remover, Netflix is raising their prices again, and some genius decided a pedestal sink is perfect for the powder room despite the fact it leaves no place to hide supplies.

The Mueller report dropped. So there’s that.