My brain is absolutely famished!

My brain is absolutely famished! I consumed the last Vanity Fair, Atlantic
Monthly, and Lucky. I desperately searched our local library for Steve Martin's
new book and (surprise, surprise) they do not have it, nor is it on order. I
can't purchase anything else until Thursday! I will be starving by then! I am
going to go nuts with no tubbing material. Nothing compliments a hot bath more
than bound print- glossy or otherwise. My influence over my daughters in this
arena is showing up. As I walked through the hallway the other night, my socked
feet soaked up "something." My disgust was a bit allayed by the fact that the
only animal that lives in our home could never make a puddle that big, but
still... stepping in something wet in one's sock feet is enough to begin the dry
heaves. Hearing the sound of water moving in the bathroom, I knocked. Of course
I wasn't allowed to enter, so we spoke through the confines of the door.
Apparently E had made a nice hot tub of water for herself, but forgot a book.
So, she stepped out to grab one and obviously remembered to dry her hands, but
not anything else. All I could do was smile and walk away from the mirror
pleased with my reflection.