A Fork in the Road...or Somewhere

It's been another exciting week around here. That's right. Here's the list of what I've accomplished:

• Re-organized sock drawer: Check
• Cleaned sports/junk/project/crapft room: Check
• Shampooed and vacuumed cat (Oh. I think I see where I went wrong. It was supposed to be CARPET. Oops.): Check
• Turned yoga students into pretzels: Check
• Faked an affluent social life on Facebook: Check
• Swam without drowning: Check
• Bought a Bicycle: CHECK CHECK CHECK!!!!!

Yay! I finally have a bike. Now I need to go ride it.

Enough of that. Didn't I say something about forks?

I'm convinced that someone else besides Hubby, Cat, and I live in this house. Lately, when I've opened the silverware drawer to pull out a small fork, I find that a large fork had infiltrated the small fork slot. WTF? I mean, WHAT THE FORK? Or, as some members of my Texas-born family would say: "WHAT THE FARK"!

Surely someone is coming in at night or when I'm not here and re-arranging my drawer. That must be it because I certainly wouldn't put the forks in the wrong slot while unloading the dishwasher, now would I?

Sigh. I've been feeling so good lately but I must have been fooling myself. I need another vacation.

While looking around for pictures of forks, I found this:


I get frustrated with my hair-throwing, dirt-rolling, clawed critter that looks like a cat but I would never do that to him. Then again, maybe he could use the pitch fork to get the moles out of our yard.

Then I found this picture:


so I poured me some wine.

Along with my wine, I pulled out Skye's granola. That's right. She sent me this photo for naming her harvest granola "Blue Skye's Harvest Granola":


So should I go for a career in Marketing?

Photo credits: devil kitty: geckoam on flickr.com, wine label: fotofill on flickr.com, Creative Commons license (see sidebar)