It's window-opening season, ladies.
Sure, I could mean this to be "Air your house out" or "Get that germy recirculated air out and let Mother Nature in." But, if you have children, it only means one thing: other people can hear you yell at your kids.
On Cheesehead Lane, where I live, it's a busy little street. Not so much in vehicular traffic, but in foot traffic. I'm between the local gas station/pharmacy/liquor store and the vagrant housing down the street. I'm also in spitting distance to the high school. Lots of people walk past our house every day.
So, when I yell at the kids, "No one is to show anyone their penis and it is NOT called a "half-moon," and the windows are open, it's not just Disgruntled Husband and me that can't believe the things I have to say, but now common townspeople, too. And they may take it out of context.
(Half-moon came about when DH had to put his two cents in about what a "Full Moon" was in non-celestial instances. The boys have been obsessed with it, and Hoover took it upon himself to further the vernacular and the usage. Yup, the Judge started this one.)
|The window into our world may include calls to DCFS if we're not careful.|
Yesterday, I spent a few minutes on my front porch drinking a cup of rapidly cooling coffee, attempting to read the paper and pretending to organize the crap on the porch, when I hear through the open window sounds of a B movie horror sequence. The screams! The sobs! The yelling of injustice! All of this over what color bowl is used to house their morning breakfast.
I have to admit, if I were walking by at that moment, I'd probably be talking to the local fuzz about a welfare check on Cheesehead Lane.
Which brings me to my second PSA for the day. If you're going to have your windows open, you're going to also have to sit your kids down to explain the laws of physics and the sound barrier. I do this every April. Not that it helps.
Please tell me I'm not alone.