Gashole

We all know I'm not getting any sleep, and as a result, my "no swearing around kids" filter is completely shattered. I've been swearing like a sailor. I'm not proud of it, and it reminds me of the movie "Witchboard," where the first sign that the heroine had been possessed by a demon was her sudden propensity to swear.

Anyway, this morning I almost had Baby V down for a nap (oh blessed be), when Chebbles' computer program, situated just outside of Baby V's nursery, started yelling, "HELLO! ARE YOU DONE?" Yes, we'd finished playing with it about twenty minutes prior, and suddenly it wanted attention. "HELLO! ARE YOU THERE?" it continued as I tried to soothe my cranky infant into bed. "HELLO! DO YOU WANT TO KEEP PLAYING???"

Finally, I burst from Baby V's room and shouted, "Go away, you total asshole!" as I fiddled with the computer and shut down the program.

Once I re-settled Baby V back into her nap, Chebbles had some questions for me...

"Did the gashole go away?"
"Where did the gashole go?"
"What is a gashole, Mama?"

"It's something at gas stations," I said, popping a bunch of aspirin and laughing for the first time in the last few days.