Sharing a washroom...

After a cup of coffee (the required potion to transform me from an incoherent grump to my usual super safety wench self), I launched into my regular mad dash between ironing a top for work (really I should do this in the evening.. I need to get organized...), fixing the Chicklet's snacks for the day (also something I should do the night before... I'm so disorganized!) and feeding Chelsea the beagle her pill coated in peanut butter (vet's orders... must be in the morning... can't get THAT organized... oh.. and did I mention that the pills have a nasty gastrointestinal side effect, in which I almost stepped whilst running from the kitchen to the living room to turn the TV off - yuck - Damn.. must pick this up... double yuck!), when I ran into the washroom to brush my teeth alongside the Chicklet. Luckily, I've managed to make sure my socks match every day and I'm not walking around with a fabric softener sheet stuck to my butt, most days... Sharing a washroom (although she has a perfectly nice pink washroom of her own) with her in the morning is interesting. She sings along to classic rock and roll (her version of Kiss's "I wanna rock and roll" is smokin') with reckless abandon and asks endless questions. Why does the medicine make Chelsea poop that colour? What's that stuck to your butt? Why did you only put makeup on one eye? What's that smell? Who's the cutest kid in the whole world (AHA! an easy one to answer!!!) Can I invent chocolate toothpaste? She and I stood side by side brushing our teeth and...well... I think Blake is rubbing off on us... Beatboxing with a mouthful of toothpaste suds is messy... Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!