As I watched Rakes and Trot pull each other through the house on a plastic wagon while banging off every wall, door, dish washer and random leg they could find while laughing like homicidal maniacs the whole time, I was struck by a thought.
And no, it wasn't "Why is Rakes grabbing his willy?" Although in retrospect that would have been a valid answer. I sleep better if I tell myself he was just checking to make sure it was still there and leave it at that.
In the midst of more noise than the average Motorhead concert I suddenly realized that more than likely, even though it was right at the top of the list, I won't die of a heart attack.
I'm pretty sure the hypertension will get me first.
Or maybe I'll just go deaf from the jet engine-like noise that permeates my house on a daily basis and live to a ripe old age, blissfully unaware of the chaos around me while Ang slowly turns into Jack Nicholson in "The Shining".
Everybody has to have a dream, right?
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