Tonight smelled like tacos. And laundry. And ripe dish rag. And packing tape. And the clean white plastic of the baby gate I installed at the bottom of our staircase - incorrectly I suspect because it is not flush with the carpet, due to the limited flat space available on the banister post. This will need to be fixed as she could probably fit her little head under there (I have some ideas, mostly involving monkeys). But, as of right now, I consider our home to be more baby-proof than it was this morning, when Lydia boldly and repeatedly scaled our staircase, like a nine-month old Tenzing Norgay, accompanied by her Colby Village Sherpa mom. The need to put an end to such action and adventure was quickly identified - thus the baby gate. Baby dreams: successfully squashed.
Today also smelled like the plumbers putty I used to slow the steady drip of water that persists from the infamous toilet reinstall. The putty: a temporary fix that will be forgotten about and remain in place until it inevitably fails, and I flip out over the damn leaking toilets again. I'm calling it now.
Tonight's soundtrack: the A&W theme, which I had in my head all evening. And now I'm craving root beer and furry brown mascot heads. Weird.
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