Digits.

This is my thousandth post since I started this blog. I kept watching the number tick up, and thinking to myself, “Wow! When I reach post #1,000 I better think of something important to say.” I’ve noticed some bloggers make a fancy birthday cake with a candle to celebrate their blogging milestones and such. 

I looked forward to making a milestone with my little blog, although why I thought I would do something fancy is beyond me. I had such high, misguided hopes for myself — so silly. Real life does not allow me to bake right now. In fact, I fed Asher Eggo waffles for lunch today. And breakfast. Shhhh.

Now that I’ve reached post #1,000, I sheepishly report that I did not make a cake or even procure a store-bought cupcake. I have no candles. I just had to look down and make sure I am wearing a shirt. I am a mess, a sleep-deprived mess, and I can’t string thought processes together. Case in point: my conversation with Husband last night. 

Me: I just realized that there are THIRTY fingers and toes in this house, in addition to my own, that I am responsible for trimming.

Husband: That’s a lot of digits.

Me: Oh my GOD. It really is.

Husband: (a few minutes later) There are 100 digits in this house.

Me: WHAT?!

Husband: A hundred digits. In this house. Five people with 20 digits each.

Me:  (silent horror.) 

And then we both started laughing semi-uncontrollably and I said something like, “HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!?!?!”

I know this sounds stupid (because it is), but seriously … how did that happen? So many fingers and toes. So many eyes staring at me. It’s almost like all these kids snuck up on us. I mean clearly they didn’t, but in my fog of exhaustion nothing adds up quite right.

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