Not a Sponsored Post

Every morning as I begin to hear the faint rustling of my husband alarm clock beside me, my hand instictively reaches out for my phone on the nigh stand. Blinded by the digits blaring back at me, I'm either begrudgingly swinging my legs out of bed or waving the white flag in a sleep surrender for five more minutes, give or take. From then on, my morning varies between good and usual.
Good Morning: Full outfit. Full makeup. Full coffee mug.
AND
Usual Morning: Sweatshirt. Leggings. Slippers. Lighting a candle on my shrine to whoever invented those drive-thru coffee huts.
A good or usual morning, depending on when my other human alarm clock yells "Mama! It's time to get up! I want pancakes! Where's my robot?"

I'm making toast, after a "sorry out of pancakes" temper tantrum, teaching a lesson on lego etiquette, "if you throw twenty pieces on the floor, we might only find seven now and step on thirteen of them later in the middle of the night" ala cause and effect, and checking my email. Ding ding ding. The life alarm. Remember to buy this. Sell this. Push this. Write this.

Whoa. It's not even eight in the morning, let me put my pants on before I read about what new pants I need to put on.

Four years ago, I would have been over the moon about a pants email (we are running with this whole pants metaphor. CS Lewis I am not).
Free pants? Me is to blog as pants is to get. Plus another pair for one lucky reader.
These are the best pants ever! Says the person who thinks Costco sample Saturday is the closest thing to Heaven on this side of the pearly gates.
Have free pants, will write was my hobo middle name on the side of a Blogger highway.
Then it was scarves, and jewelry, and shoes, and computer software...but free! Kinda like that one time I won free tickets...to a WWE event. Tickets to a stupid thing. FREE tickets to a stupid thing. Well, when you say it like that, hell yes I can smell what the Rock is cooking!
Giveaways, codes, comments, likes, follows, like for like, follow for follow, click, tap, do it all again.

You know what.
I just want to make pancakes (switching metaphors right about now).
I have the flour, sugar, eggs, and milk. Everything I need.

Best part is, you don't even need to wear pants while you make 'em.

Does that make any sense?
Come on over to my house and I can explain much better. I'll make you pancakes.
I'll wear pants. Gah.

I made you read "pants" eleven times.

I've missed this blog.


xoxo

{Bon Bon}