But my dogs think I'm pretty

Today was Day o' Errands here at Noodleroux headquarters. Note to self: do whatever it takes - including selling a kidney - to avoid the Target returns desk on a Saturday afternoon.

I guess that's what I get for repeatedly staring at a package of sheets I got for Christmas, thinking, "Gee, something about these is not quite right," and then biting the bullet, washing said sheets, and only realizing when the fitted sheet was a foot too long that the sheets were the wrong size.

Hi, I can't read.

And have you ever attempted to fold sheets back into the little plastic baggie thing they come in? Dude, don't try it.

And the 12-year-old at the returns desk told me that since I didn't have a receipt, I needed to go find ONE ITEM of EQUAL PRICE from "that part of the store where we have sheets and stuff."

So, it was an adventure. And repayment of some sort of karmic debt - oh, like returning sheets I already washed. They CAME with that dog hair on them, I swear.

I then had the rare delight of meeting a college friend for lunch. I adore her, but she has fallen into the category of Friends With Kids. She has a 2-year-old and a 3-month-old and is barely keeping it together. I have never seen anyone with so little faith in their parenting abilities. She feels like a failure because she had a second child earlier than planned and the 2-year-old still needs her.

Umm? I'm 31 and I still need my mom. Am I over-simplifying or am I a brilliant and wise sage?

I'm thinking that both kids are still alive, so what bigger victory can you ask for? It's thoughts like this that make me realize that I should just keep my big mouth shut because I obviously have no clue. And since all but one of my friends has kids, well ... that makes for a rather lonely and isolated Cha Cha.

Really, it's a good thing I don't have kids. I can't discern the difference between the terms "full" and "queen."