Blog Posts from the Edge

Day 7 of my captivity:

Hand, foot & mouth disease has invaded our once peaceable kingdom, and during a 9-day forced togetherness fest they call spring break, no less. We've yet to experience this elusive "Spring" phenomenon, and there most certainly hasn't been any sort of break. I'm confident that I'm rapidly approaching a mental break. Does that count?

Sick, bored, itchy children abound. Planned excursions to the out-of-doors have been scrapped due to inhospitable weather conditions and a highly communicable virus. We grow steadily more weary of one another's company with each passing hour.

Worse still, living conditions are deteriorating rapidly. The inmates children insist on being fed DAILY, pushing the very limits of my once generous sense of hospitality. Dishes are accumulating faster than they can be dealt with, and other routine tasks are being neglected as well. An increasing amount of my time is being consumed re-directing children to find something to do and otherwise manually dislodging them from "my grill". Surely madness lies around the next corner?

I pray you, send reinforcements as soon as can be managed. Earplugs, chocolate, fortified liquor and calamine lotion by the gallon are our most immediate needs. Some sort of force field that separates the children from my person by at least 5 feet would be most welcome, but I am uncertain as to whether or not such technology yet exists. In lieu of that, perhaps a remote control mute button, or a spell that renders me temporarily deaf? Anything helps.

We have a minimum of 3 more days of incarceration togetherness before the large, yellow, multi-passenger transports return to whisk my charges away to their institutions of learning. May their journey be swift and unhindered, delivering not only my bedraggled younglings to their destination, but delivering me from a slow, soul-crushing episode of cabin fever as well.

Three more days, three more days, three more days.....