Spilt Milk...

Carson. Gets. On. My. Nerves. ALOT.

Today I used the electric pump (hate it--hardly ever use it--it's a pain), hoping I could pump some milk to take to Galveston next weekend. That way maybe *I* could enjoy myself a little at the reception (MARGARITA MACHINE!)... I pumped 6 oz in , like, 7 minutes. I was so proud of that milk! So I unhooked all the tubes/wires (another reason I hate the pump) and took them to the kitchen to rinse out--leaving the big ole bottle of milk on the end table (I pumped in the recliner). BIG mistake. I walked right back into the living room to get the bottle and it was...GONE. Carson was not in the room. I called for him. and called. Then I went looking. I found the (empty) bottle in my bed...he had opened it and poured it all over my bed.

I haven't been that mad/sad/deflated in a loooong time. I literally felt like he had poured out a bottle of GOLD down the toliet. And the fact that he kept giggling over it just enraged me more. I actually had tears in my eyes. And I really wanted to BEAT him. But I didn't. Not this time.

He had better be glad I love him. ALOT. I really need that margarita now...