Yesterday, I went to work, did a new student orientation, went to a three-hour meeting, did a new employee orientation, ran home, got Nita, dropped her off at drum lessons with an admonishment to wait for her dad after the lesson, and then ran to Kiki's two high school open house.
Then I came home, ran the dishwasher, threw a load of clothes in the dryer, packed lunches, signed homework and assignment books, put the three kids to bed, and fed the dogs while EG fed the cats. He said to me, coming down from the upstairs where the girls and cats live, "Why is there a tamale on the steps?"
Of course, I assumed I was tired and had heard him wrong. But, there in his hand, was a corn-husked wrapped tamale.
Do I really want to know?