Zombie Jesus and Morning Breath

Apparently not everyone is aware of the fact that this blessed day of our Lord is the day in which we celebrate the rising of the undead Christ.

So here’s a song, to bring you up to speed.

Warms my little heart to see children honoring the undead Lord.

Anyhow.

We made eggs last night. Harper was not in a good mood. We had another forty-five minutes of nonverbal angst during egg making time.

Eventually she came around. Whatever is bugging her I can’t get to the heart of but she’s concealing it behind a new obsession with missing Liberty, the eagle at the Audubon Society in Jamestown. I don’t know. I couldn’t be more open to her telling me if she’s pissed at me. I invite her to tell me.for chrissakes.

Whatever. All I can do is just keep opening the floor, I guess.

Just now as I’m typing this she stopped over to let me know that she’s going to marry some kid named Nick.

That’s nice.

I’m gonna have to kill Nick, but it’s nice that she told me.

Harper woke me up at the ass crack of dawn this morning. She’d been pretty jacked up over the idea of a rabbit bringing their baskets last night. She was up pretty late just checking everything out.

Anxiety.

And she was the one to wake me up with her morning breath. Swear to God, I love that child more than I love my own life but her breath smells like cat litter in the morning.

Gah.

It’s effective, though.

So, we got up and they found their baskets.

That hair in the morning. Lord, Harper and I are like twins in the morning.

That analogy should help keep the menfolk off me. Yay.

They got hooked up today. So much diabetes.

I mean candy. So much candy.

So…damn…much…candy.

I went to make French toast this morning and opened the fridge to discover that when they say the top shelf of the refrigerator is the coldest they really do mean it. One of my bottles of diet Snapple froze, and shattered, and covered the entire fridge in tea and glass.

They entertained themselves while I cleaned, and cooked, and then cleaned up the cooking, by wearing Snapple boxes on their heads.

I let them have their tablets one day a week. Either Saturday or Sunday. And they can play them until they die, but once they die that’s the end of it for the week.

Basically, I use tablets to buy myself one day of sleeping in per week. This is the kind of thing kids do when they don’t have tablets. And I love it. And it’s important. I have nothing against a tablet but these kids need to know how to entertain themselves without a device. See how they made something out of something that wasn’t even a thing? That’s called invention. And it’s super important that kids know how to invent things and think inventively or else we are going to wind up with an entire generation of kids who are really good at taking standardized tests and really bad at pretty much everything else.

And that’s all imma say.

/soapbox

So an hour later I got back to the French toast thing.

And then it was to Mom’s for dinner with the other people with whom we share genes.

Family, I hear, is what the cool kids are calling it these days.

Stupid cool kids.

Here’s the girls with Dennis and Mannie.

They double check with me all the time to make sure that if I die they get to go live with Mannie.

It’s all fun and games until your mother dies, kids. Keep it up.

Whatever.

I kinda wanna live with Mannie too.

I get it.

Now they’ve conned Grandma into letting them spend the night so I’m headed out to get their accoutrements and bring them back.

There are advantages to living just down the road.

Happy Zombie Jesus Day, girls and boys.

He is risen.

And I am Negan.

Mwah.

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