Welcome to the Clampetts


Looking at the ever mounting garbage piled on the back deck, the wind-blown Christmas decorations outside, and the post-Christmas mess that has enveloped my home, I’m feeling like we are living like the Clampetts.  My upstairs bathroom has been eaten by laundry.  It’s so bad that I’ve left that battle completely to my husband.  I’m working on getting the Christmas mess cleared.  However, anyone that has children understands that’s a two-week process- minimum.  Old toys have to be sorted and thrown out before new ones are added.  As I do this, my two youngest boys follow behind me taking everything out that I’ve put away.

Later, Braeden was going sledding with friends and thought he’d be wearing my rubber boots.  Once I convinced him of how bad frost bite hurts, I headed to Wal-mart to see what I could find.  A quick trip in and out was what I was hoping for.  It was looking like it was going to happen until I got in line.  There I met a fellow ‘hillbilly with her little boy.  He was around the age of two and not interested in waiting in line for his new boots.  At first I smiled feeling sorry for the Clampett mother as she fought the obviously exhausted child.  Right up until she ripped him off the floor by his skinny arm and screamed “You gonn be gettin’ yerself some damn ass woopin’ if you don’t get up off that floor!  I be taken my belt off right here.”  She then turned to me and said “And this why I need my damn smokes!”  My response “Mmmmm.”

So after I stood in line for another ten minutes listening to this woman scream at her child while counting change for a pack of Kool 100 menthols, I decided it was in everyone’s best interest for me to find another line…  for I whooped some ass!

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