The Nail Polish Incident: a 2 day disaster

On Sunday, my morning began with a bottle of black nail polish...splattered all over the wool rug in our living room. Black. Nail Polish.
It was my seventh day without a husband (harvest). Needless to say, much Shout, plenty of cursing and many beers followed.
On Monday, I awoke to the reality that despite the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol the day before, I had not escaped my life as a stay at home parent. And, after sending my oldest off to kindergarten, today was the day I had arranged a sitter so I could "accomplish something" sans kids for two hours.
It was a brilliant plan, Holly and I had agreed to split one babysitter at her house while our oldest were away at school. Half price babysitting!
I arrived at Holly's house to meet the sitter with a kid in one hand and a death grip on my cup of coffee in the other. The clock was ticking, my stomach was reeling, and the babysitter met me with bright eyes and an eagerness that only furthered my nausea.
OMG, Miller Tall Cans....
Holly had her oldest delivered to preschool and her baby asleep in the crib. She was primping for her anticipated few hours away.
I slid onto her sofa and surveyed the floor to make sure it had stopped moving while the sitter anxiously entertained Ana.
"Holly," I muttered, "mind if I lock myself in your room for a few hours and sleep this off?"
And the Mother of The Year Award goes to...

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