-With laundry, as soon as you get used to righting inside-out shirts before folding them, inevitably you'll pick up a right-side-out shirt, turn it inside-out, and then have to switch it back again. Entropy.
- As soon as you clean floors, milk WILL be spilt. And yes, I do cry over it thank-u-very-much. Entropy.
- As soon as the kitchen's clean, dishwasher unloaded, and sink is empty, it's time to cook again and mess the dang thing up again. Entropy.
- Laundry all done and put away? Someone's gonna pee their pants. Why? ENTROPY.
- As soon as your hands are covered in cooking goo (eggs, bread dough, flour breading, etc.) someone WILL need hollar, "Mommy, I gotta go POO POO right now!" - Damn you entropy!
And don't even get me started on crumbs and sand on my floor.
"You threw up where!?? Suuuuuuper!"And my kids... definitely experts on entropy. Heck, I'd even go so far to call them AGENTS of entropy. Their weapons in the fight against orderliness? Playdough, peanut-butter-and-Jelly sandwiches, kazoos, glitter, tempura paint, full milk glasses, and, lest we forget, poorly timed digestive outbursts.
So in sum, thank you Pastor Frank, for giving name to the force that shapes my days, keeps me addicted to caffienated drinks, and sucks the nice-mommy-ness out of me. I also plan to blame entropy for my fluffy midsection, the need for padded bras, and those white hairs I keep pulling out. Believe me, it's much nicer to blame (poorly understood) thermodynamic principles than to go on a compulsive cleaning rampage, swearing at my family and digging thru closets full of stuff better off buried anyway. And in the meantime, I'll keep singing this song, cause it sums up what gets me thru the toughest days, when Entropy carries a sledgehammer thru my otherwise peaceful world...