Whew! Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is tired this evening, my friends. Tired. Like a hipster doofus who falls asleep in a hot tub, which shorts out the electricity to the building, forcing Jean Paul the marathon runner to oversleep.
We pulled into the garage this afternoon, and The Pony gathered up our various educational accouterments to haul into the house. I reached up to close the garage door as The Pony climbed out of the back seat behind me.
"What did you do that for?"
"Why did you open the back? I have all the stuff. We don't have groceries."
"Um. Because I thought I was hitting the garage door closer."
The Pony snorted. "That's a logical mistake, I guess. Heh, heh, heh."
"We shall never speak of this again."
Still. It's not as bad as that time I stepped into the shower with my socks still on. Or when I put the frozen pizza in the oven on that round cardboard thingy. Sleep deprivation is not a good look on Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.