AQUARIUM PUMP SIZE

just like my husband did the other day... i am sure All men of kept women have at one point or another said this 'so ahh... what Do you do all day?!'
he tells me he said it in a joking way.. i believe him but those words have stuck to me like Glue!! so... what do i do all day... deal with one Major disaster after another.. a woman can only take so Much!! so... today in a text when he asked me what was Wrong after i informed him that i was 'done with this house and plan to bury myself in my bed and never leave it'... i had his jokingly spewed words floating around in my skull as i unleashed the Mornings events... events that are No different than Any other day for me!! no different than Any other day for Any stay at home mom...
i spapped and it wasnt pretty!!! somedays just become too much!!

this was my reply to my husband...

'Started off with lily bringing cereal upstairs and spilling it all over our bed.. Meanwhile Gage was (unknowingly to me) out back painting the dog house... He came inside with completely black hands and arms... The wall outside has spraypaint all over it... Then I notice the pond is florescent green so I begin the process of killing the alge and dumping all the water.. The damn pump brakes.. Completely.. Right in the middle of it all!!!! Meanwhile the girls have pulled out ALL my books and have them spread out all over the house... Then lily knocks over a HUGE cup of water that eve had On The Floor... everything is soaked... Counters are full of their toys and garbage and dirty dishes and I have to FORCE them with absolute anger and evilness in my voice to get them to even TOUCH any of it... i have a Huge pile of Your papers and Shit by the garage door that i have NO clue what to do with!!! I am picking up yours and gages socks all Over the Goddamn house... The dogs wont shut the hell up.... My time i spent cleaning the bedroom the other day was a TOTAL waste because eve has trashed it Again!!! I am SO FREAKING TIRED OF EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!'

you see men... your women are at home trying with ALL their might to Not break shit!! theyre tired and frustrated and feel all alone and partnerless... if your woman is disgruntled and pissy... dont reciprocate her mood... just understand that shes had a ruff last 8 years of her life and is teetering on the edge of insanity... dont ask what you can do to Help... dont offer any advise... just tell her 'i know... i understand... it wont be like this forever... i promise'

then she will feel ALL better and the day can move forward...

But the Rev. Mr Sloddon, clergyman defrocked, exorcist and ex Broadmoor, was transfixed staring at Henry’s younger brother Hubert who was plinking a ukulele and buzzing.

Mr Slodden sneezed tish.

Mrs E poured him another glass of port. “Do you suffer from stubborn stains dear?”.

“I I keep myself for an empty vessel for God to fill as he will”.

“Then you must like pond fruit” cooed Florrie “I used to collect it as a child. And do you too like boats Mr Slodden?”.

“I do ma’am for as the Good Lord said it saves such a lot of walking. I know, I know a lovely hymn, I learned it on my missionary travels. I was telling this story of the crucifixion to a party of Mongolian bandits and”, gulping his drink Mr Sloddon, his false leg squeaking, hobbled himself to the harmonium and fumbled a few uplifting chords. “They loved this one, er the bandits” he burbled. As he pumped the pedals his cassock rode up to reveal that his grey sock on the wooden leg was attached with drawing pins.

Hubert made up the words.

"He’s walking on the water
Spreading his light
He raises up a dead man
Makes him feel alright
I can see him coming
Spreading his light
Spreading his light all about

When your ship is sinking
He’s the bung in your punt
When you can’t find your keyhole
Hooray for Holman Hunt
He even works at weekends
He’s never out to lunch
He’s spreading his light all about

In a nighty made of poplin
The shepherd played Scott Joplin
All through the night
Squeezing on his organ
Spreading his light
And clinging to his old rugged cross

Get that good mans hair cut
Spreading his light
All you can say is there but for the grace of God go I
Spreading his light
I can see him waiting
For you to say goodbye
Spreading his light all about"

Mr Slodden confessed himself taken a “trifle short” and, wincing faced with the shortness of it, he asked if he might visit the lavattery.
“The lavaterry. Gods teeth man, call it the bog and be done.” Ahchoo. With a tremendous sneezing Sir Henry yawped and roared into the dining room “Whoa. Blast”.

“Zebras master” called Scrotum.

Vivian Stanshall