Busted

I'm going to be that friend you hate, the one to oh-so-casually mention that they have a HUGE juicy secret that........they just can't tell you right now. Later, they always say, I'll tell you later. I'll tell you when you're older.

(Insert an imaginative paragraph here...since my blogger is continuing to throw a fit)

But seriously? I swear I'll fill you in. It's a sweet idea.

For now I'll provide evidence that here at our household if it's not one thing, it's another. Quite literally. You remember the oven episode right? 6 weeks of an oven that neither baked, broiled, or roasted. We grilled. We ate cereal. And we waited.

This morning when I was in bed, catching a few extra minutes of sleep, Caleb was busy putting holes in our sink. Or rather, a hole. A real live hole.

Exhibit A: Big Gaping Hole.

The offender? One small aftershave bottle, dropped into the sink. It's almost comical, isn't it? Except that we now have one working sink in the house, and no promise that it will get fixed soon. We're taking bets on how long it will be before it gets fixed, and how many times the decision to keep / fix / replace will change.

I'll go first - 2 weeks, and twice. Cause I like to keep things neat and even.