I woke up to find the dog in the tub and the Butcher on the couch. In many ways, Mrs. Wigglebottom is the anti-Busy Mom. While Busy Mom was up late into the night monitoring the news for word of tornados so that she could get her loved ones to safety, Mrs. Wigglebottom was hiding behind the shower curtain.
I assumed, then, that the Butcher must have been up all night watching the weather and keeping us safe, but no, he woke up at four and couldn’t get back to bed. He’s on the couch trying to sleep and feeling miserably unhappy.
I, on the other hand, don’t have too much to complain about. I don’t have any baby carrots for my lunch and I shut my hair in the sun roof. Small potatoes compared to most folks, I suppose.