Sunday I had all sorts of grand plans in my head. I wanted to go to church, then drive 30 miles to visit my mother on her first Mother’s Day as a widow. I wanted to spend a few hours with her, and then go up the highway another 40 miles to see my step-mom and spread around some Mother’s Day cheer to two of the most important ladies in my life. All I managed of that plan was the part about going to church. When I got home someone said they got bit by a flea on the couch.
That’s when I went a bit psychotic. Read the rest of this entry