What is a flitter you say?
I am not sure, but I do know this:
1. You only find it in the south.
2. You can't get flatter than that.
3. It is flatter than a pancake.
4. Flatter than a piece of paper laying flat on top of a flat top desk.
And I know one thing more importantly.
Tonight I am that flitter.
All the stuffing is gone out of me. Removed by three rambunctious 6 year olds this week. And a job that produces prodigious mountains of profusely self-reproducing paperwork.
So I am flat. As a flitter. Put there by:
1. three four leelers (well, Mad says it is "wheeler" now "and Dunc is WRONG")
2. one whole day of a Vesuvius of erupting vomitus
3. one wasp sting on a little foot
4. one Tarzan movie, viewed in its entirety for two days in a row
5. another wasp sting to the same small foot (Maddie saying plaintively: "Grammy, why did I get stung on the SAME FOOT?"
6. an army of soldiers, with a few firemen and pirates thrown in for good measure, decamped in every nook and cranny of my house, just waiting to lay ambush to me
7. mud puddle baths
8. mud pies
9. every towel in my house covered by mud from said puddles and pies
10. crumbs from every meal strewn to every room
11. sand in every bed on the sheets I just washed the vomit out of 2 days ago.
So leave me be. I am flittering life away.