Army of Mom

So this is how liberty dies ... with thunderous applause.


A whisper to a scream

Gees Louise, my son has the loudest whisper on the face of the planet. I'm making business calls and the boys are playing Xbox in the floor of my office area. The rules are: you can't be loud while mom is making business calls or you're done playing.

So, his whisper is as loud as most people's top volume. It is also like fingernails on a chalkboard to me, too. Then, his brother sounds like a balloon with the air escaping as he shushes his brother to get him to speak more softly. (however Hot Rod has one volume and that is loud.)

All of this is the result of my "Will Work For Food" approach to working. I took on the clean-up efforts for one of the magazines I write for and called 81 different construction companies, sending out surveys, etc. It seems the publisher wanted to get the ad sales folks to do these phone calls, but they do things so much differently than us editorial folks and miscommunication ensued. So, I get called in to do it right. *sigh* It is something I'm known for with the editors for whom I work. They call me to fix things when someone else has fouled them up. I guess it isn't a bad place to be, but I was really counting on a more relaxing day of cleaning the house at a leisurely pace instead of frantically fighting off an anxiety attack at getting everything done.


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