|In a search for a piece of paperwork, I ended up with piles of printed material everywhere. It needs to be dealt with. Sigh.|
From an old journal, in 2005, when Everett was 12:
On the drive to school this morning Everett said he didn't have any dreams last night.
"I only have dreams when I sleep in your bed, Mom. Your bed must be enchanted or something."
Mom gives Everett his first and only lesson in embroidery:
From My journal:
Everett came running and bouncing onto the bed with the biggest, most beautiful smile on his face.
"Why so happy?" I asked.
"I'm not!" he insisted.
|I am seriously paper-challenged. And I don't want to deal with it. Time to pay a call to Flylady.com.|