It could happen...

So, the other day, I had mentioned what went on around here when Michael was gone for 3 WEEKS. When he arrived home, it was fantastic, although much, much more had happened from the time I wrote that post until the time he pulled in the drive.
Allow me to clarify:
Laynee discovered a new toy, which is not a new toy, but is in fact a thing called Superglue. She also figured out that it hurts when you glue your fingers to your forehead.

Corrine decided it would be a fun thing to take Daisy on a walk, but while on her walk, Corrine got distracted by the swings and tied Daisy to the bike rack at the park. Corrine got further distracted by her friends who showed up, and she left the park with the dog still attached to the bike rack. Within minutes, I heard what sounded like a dryer full of boulders coming up the alley behind my house. Daisy had brought the bike rack home. Never leave a determined Golden Retriever alone.

Hunter, in his ever diligent quest to drive me insane, refused to let me cut his hair, spurring an all out war between the clippers, me and the boy. Subsequently, while I was otherwise occupied, he took it upon himself to cut his own hair. Bald. Completely bald. Not a scrap of hair left on his head.

Our television blew up. Sparks literally flew out the back of the TV causing the smoke alarm to go off, which caused the neighbors worry, which in turn led to the local fire department making a stop at our house to see what all the commotion was about. Good thing we only live a block and a half away from the volunteer fire department and the chief is the local hardware store owner who assisted me when I fixed the garbage disposal, so he pretty much knows what he's walking into before he even gets here.
I found a dead mouse in my shoe.
I found a live mouse in my kitchen.
Olive the kitty has given me 3 beautiful scratches down the right side of my face.
And, to top it all off, I found out my neighbor is in love with my husband and would steal him out from under me if the chance ever presents itself. No joke. He told me this himself.

confabulation \kon-FAB-yuh-lay-shuhn\, noun:
(Psychology) A plausible but imagined memory that fills in gaps in what is remembered.

Actually, all of the above could  have happened. But, the rest of our week remained dull and boring. Just as it should be. In fact, the only unimagined bit of info was the incident with my neighbor going on and on and on about his adoration of my husband. Guess I'll have to keep him on a tight leash. No more taking out the trash in his skivvies.