Yesterday

DivaBitchDoll stayed home from school yesterday. Kind of a "I'm-a-little-bit-sick-but-mostly-in-need-of-a-mental-health-day" if you ask me. Anyway, I was rushing around the house in the afternoon doing whatever it is I do all day, (bon-bons and soap operas, house calls from the pool boy) and then I was looking for my Target receipt because I have a bunch of stupid lights that do not work that need to be returned (plus Daddy Scrooge hates to do lights, so the lights that were working would not be displayed anywhere on our house anytime soon).

This Target receipt was in excess of $600 (Santa Clause, you know), so I was getting so pissed that I couldn't find it, and was huffing and mumbling all around the house searching frantically through my purse, cursing the receipt-stealing-fairy (because we all know there's really one out there!), and I decide I need to calm down so I grab my *happy pills* and pop one.

Sidenote: Mom, before you start thinking I'm a drug addict, I take like one of these every three weeks or so.

Anyway, DivaBitchDoll sees me in this flurry of anxiousness, sees me popping a pill and asks:

"Is that a headache pill or a frustrated pill?"

How are they so freaking smart?