Miss Lola is crying very hard. In between sobs she laments: "Why am I such a misfit? I'm just a couple of misfits." It's really quite dramatic. And incredibly funny but I can't laugh because her tears are real. It doesn't matter what I say to her, she won't stop quoting Rudolph as she throws herself onto my bed and wails.
And our day started off so lovely. Lola and I were having a great time together, painting salt dough ornaments we had baked earlier and sprucing them up with lots of glitter. Everything was fine and then I left the room. I was only gone for two seconds, maybe three, I swear. Upon my return I walked right into the Great Glitter Explosion of 2011.
When I asked her what happened, Lola answered she spilled just a little bit and must have had some on her feet when she walked to her room. Indeed, there was a great big pile of glitter on the floor with two size 9 1/2 footprints in the middle of it. I could trace her steps all over the upstairs.
So for the second time that day I hauled the bulky, heavy, pain-in-the-butt vacuum cleaner up the stairs. (Why, my good Americans, why do you insist on using these outdated appliances? Don't you know there's a whole continent out there that uses lightweight, easy to handle vacuums with a retractable cord to boot?)
After I cleaned the mess in my room, I asked Lola to pick up her room. Imagine my surprise when I turned around fifteen minutes later and found she had carried all her toys downstairs instead of putting them away. I was just struggling with the impossible task of slicing a fresh baked loaf of bread and I may have lost my patience there for a minute.
Hence the misfit. At least she sparkles.