Voyage - Day 6

Wednesday: TRANSLATION: Mom will have chores that need to be done, and the boys will argue as if they are members of the British Parliament (which is ironic because I was the one representing the labor party.) All that was missing was powdered wigs and less-than-stellar dentition. I cleaned the dining room and proceeded to the kitchen, meanwhile, back at the ranch, the boys decided to convert said dining room into an art studio. I apologize to those who truly defend our environment, I allowed multiple trees to be sacrificed in the name of entertainment. I was desperate, at least, I was, until I stepped, barefoot, on the thousands of bent staples they left on the floor. My children invented a weapon of mass destruction, an iron maiden you can't see to avoid. After the initial shock, the pain is intense, you raise one foot to examine the wound and place more pressure on the other foot, driving the tiny metal spikes deeper into the sole of your foot. It's similar to running through a field during a garden gnome convention, they're all dressed up wearing their official conical hats, sharpened to a vicious point. it's wall to wall gnomes and they're not feeling friendly. Not that I have encountered such a convention, I'm just trying to put this in terms you can understand. The staple is one of those office supplies that flies under the radar, normally. You rarely hear of someone committing Hari Kari or other despicable acts using their friendly desk stapler. You see, (don't feel too bad, I was ignorant of this vital detail as well,) when you have folded a piece of paper 1,852 times, it is very difficult to force a tiny metal staple through it. Apparently, I should have provided more suitable supplies for the art station, which include, but are not limited to, C-clamps, a saws-all, lead and epoxy based paints and, most importantly, industrial metal fasteners. Next summer, I will plan ahead to purchase a plasma cutter for sheet metal.