Continued from the trip.....
If you look very closely at the picture titled ‘Prince of Poop’ you will see in the background a man putting away groceries. Groceries that that very man determined the need for and drove to the PX and bought all by himself. This was just one day after I saw him folding clothes as soon as the dryer buzzed, and a few hours after he emptied the dishwasher. It is true, I saw it with my own eyes and I meant to tell my niece that she is probably the luckiest girl in the world. He is a Captain and he is very captainish. But he is not only a very smart, nice, good-looking, captainish guy – he can clean! Not only can but does!
Truth be told, I shouldn’t have been surprised. We knew the first time we met him that he was a keeper. My niece brought him to my parents’ lake cabin about 7 years ago. We were all eating dinner outside around the picnic table. We were having manly barbequed food like steaks and burgers and such, as well as ‘indoor’ food like potato salad and corn on the cob. Well, when we ran out of corn at the table, this man that my niece brought, actually got up, took the empty plate into the kitchen and dished up a bunch more corn. All by himself. Well, I tell you, my jaw dropped and I looked at my sister-in-law and her jaw dropped and I said "I want one" and my sister-in-law said "I want one" although we both knew in our hearts it was too late for us.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Trippin'
In true ‘we all share a brain’ fashion, this weekend my universe ran parallel to Steph’s (Kitty’s Cattitude). I, too, made a baby-run with my youngest daughter but, judging from the pictures, hers was a little more exciting than mine. I, sadly, did NOT get new tires out of the deal. Or Bubba Gump food.
I told you that I was taking off on an 8 hour drive (one way) with Junie. Well, it was supposed to be a family trip but when Homer had to bow out for work-related reasons, Lola stepped up and volunteered to stay home to go snowboarding with him. So he wouldn’t be lonely. What a trooper. That was okay, because standing in the 3-hour passport line yesterday I remembered how naughty those two girls can be when they are together. I would not have survived with a single nerve.
So off we drove to see the 3-month-old baby of a most very favorite niece (my namesake, no less). This is her first and she has done a very good job. He is healthy and happy and loves his great aunt more than he loves just about anyone on this planet but he has promised not to tell even his mother about that because she does, after all, control the food supply. We played and exercised and made goofy faces at each other and I taught him how to juggle but he has promised to keep that on the down low, too, because we wouldn’t want his dad to feel inadequate that he wasn’t able to teach him first. His dad is such a nice guy.
While we were there the weather was unseasonably unreasonable. Let’s just say it would have been a beautiful Christmas. So we stayed inside and played with the baby and watched the tube. Kat, you would be so proud, we even DVR’D! Yes, it was incredible – they had 492 channels and STILL they said “there’s nothing on today”. And they said that the next day and the next. But it didn’t matter because that’s not the show we went to see. I will try to pull a picture of him off my camera but I’m pretty sure that his unbelievable sweetness will not be sufficiently represented. You will just have to take my word for it.
I also give you my word that that little boy is the Prince of Poop! He poops at least 10 or 32 times a day. They have a changing table set up in the living room which is good because otherwise we would barely have seen his mother. Now I know why they had the zillion pack of baby wipes under the table. I had seriously never before seen that many wipes outside of a store.
The drive itself was fairly uneventful which is probably an understatement considering that we traveled through 367 miles of Wyoming…..twice…..and that pretty much qualifies me to hand out some Wyoming tips. First of all, if you are thinking about stopping for gas in Wyoming and the sign says ‘next services 28 miles’ and you are tempted to think for even a minute that you have enough gas to drive another 28 miles, you might be wrong. ‘Next services’ does NOT mean that the services will be open, even in broad daylight or that you will be able to find the services that supposedly exist at that exit. Never drive around Wyoming with less than a half tank of gas. Trust me on that because, if you do run out, you may not find a single soul willing to pick up a crazed roadtrip-weary woman and her too-perky daughter. Just kidding, I didn’t run out of gas but I did slide below empty on down to the bargaining-with-God part of my tank. Whew!
Also, I never really realized that all road signs are written in a particular font until I got to I-80 exit 358. Otto Road is definitely written in the wrong font – a little too “Impact”y as opposed to the official “Series E Modified” font. I looked that up. Somebody should know about it.
Oh, and if you are wondering what has happened to every plastic grocery bag that you have ever lost to the wind…….they are all stuck in the fences lining I-80 in Wyoming. They have hurricane force winds that deliver these bags from all other states and Mexico. I think if you saw what I saw you would be more careful with those bags. You would also encourage makers of those bags to consider making them a bit more biodegradable. I guess the potential exists to eventually create solid fences with those bags but believe me when I tell you there is no real need for sound walls in that part of Wyoming.
I’m not sure even why those fences are there. As near as I could tell, they don’t restrain any livestock. I think their main purpose may be to keep the plastic bags and the tumbleweeds from mating. Think about the prospect of THAT if you’re bored.
Anyhoodle, we are back safe and sound but not a bit lighter. The body count for this trip was 6 bottles of Diet Dew, 6 Black Cherry Propels, and 6 or 8 waters which although they contain NO calories, do require QUITE A FEW rest stops. Which is good, because a fast trot up to the facilities is the only way to get the blood flowing back to the buttcheeks. It also helps burn off the can of squirt cheese, 1.5 rolls of veggie Ritz crackers (they’re new and oh so good), 6 Rice Krispie bars, 4 bran muffins (it’s important to stay regular when you are away from your home potty), 3 bananas, bag of grapes, and hmmmm….some Wheat Thins…oh and the cold pizza.... plus one stop at Micky D’s......and one at Taco DingDong.....and the big pigfest at Johnny Carino's....oh and those cinnamon rolls.....I LOVED those cinnamon rolls..
Yeah, I know, shut up and get to the gym!
I told you that I was taking off on an 8 hour drive (one way) with Junie. Well, it was supposed to be a family trip but when Homer had to bow out for work-related reasons, Lola stepped up and volunteered to stay home to go snowboarding with him. So he wouldn’t be lonely. What a trooper. That was okay, because standing in the 3-hour passport line yesterday I remembered how naughty those two girls can be when they are together. I would not have survived with a single nerve.
So off we drove to see the 3-month-old baby of a most very favorite niece (my namesake, no less). This is her first and she has done a very good job. He is healthy and happy and loves his great aunt more than he loves just about anyone on this planet but he has promised not to tell even his mother about that because she does, after all, control the food supply. We played and exercised and made goofy faces at each other and I taught him how to juggle but he has promised to keep that on the down low, too, because we wouldn’t want his dad to feel inadequate that he wasn’t able to teach him first. His dad is such a nice guy.
While we were there the weather was unseasonably unreasonable. Let’s just say it would have been a beautiful Christmas. So we stayed inside and played with the baby and watched the tube. Kat, you would be so proud, we even DVR’D! Yes, it was incredible – they had 492 channels and STILL they said “there’s nothing on today”. And they said that the next day and the next. But it didn’t matter because that’s not the show we went to see. I will try to pull a picture of him off my camera but I’m pretty sure that his unbelievable sweetness will not be sufficiently represented. You will just have to take my word for it.
I also give you my word that that little boy is the Prince of Poop! He poops at least 10 or 32 times a day. They have a changing table set up in the living room which is good because otherwise we would barely have seen his mother. Now I know why they had the zillion pack of baby wipes under the table. I had seriously never before seen that many wipes outside of a store.
The drive itself was fairly uneventful which is probably an understatement considering that we traveled through 367 miles of Wyoming…..twice…..and that pretty much qualifies me to hand out some Wyoming tips. First of all, if you are thinking about stopping for gas in Wyoming and the sign says ‘next services 28 miles’ and you are tempted to think for even a minute that you have enough gas to drive another 28 miles, you might be wrong. ‘Next services’ does NOT mean that the services will be open, even in broad daylight or that you will be able to find the services that supposedly exist at that exit. Never drive around Wyoming with less than a half tank of gas. Trust me on that because, if you do run out, you may not find a single soul willing to pick up a crazed roadtrip-weary woman and her too-perky daughter. Just kidding, I didn’t run out of gas but I did slide below empty on down to the bargaining-with-God part of my tank. Whew!
Also, I never really realized that all road signs are written in a particular font until I got to I-80 exit 358. Otto Road is definitely written in the wrong font – a little too “Impact”y as opposed to the official “Series E Modified” font. I looked that up. Somebody should know about it.
Oh, and if you are wondering what has happened to every plastic grocery bag that you have ever lost to the wind…….they are all stuck in the fences lining I-80 in Wyoming. They have hurricane force winds that deliver these bags from all other states and Mexico. I think if you saw what I saw you would be more careful with those bags. You would also encourage makers of those bags to consider making them a bit more biodegradable. I guess the potential exists to eventually create solid fences with those bags but believe me when I tell you there is no real need for sound walls in that part of Wyoming.
I’m not sure even why those fences are there. As near as I could tell, they don’t restrain any livestock. I think their main purpose may be to keep the plastic bags and the tumbleweeds from mating. Think about the prospect of THAT if you’re bored.
Anyhoodle, we are back safe and sound but not a bit lighter. The body count for this trip was 6 bottles of Diet Dew, 6 Black Cherry Propels, and 6 or 8 waters which although they contain NO calories, do require QUITE A FEW rest stops. Which is good, because a fast trot up to the facilities is the only way to get the blood flowing back to the buttcheeks. It also helps burn off the can of squirt cheese, 1.5 rolls of veggie Ritz crackers (they’re new and oh so good), 6 Rice Krispie bars, 4 bran muffins (it’s important to stay regular when you are away from your home potty), 3 bananas, bag of grapes, and hmmmm….some Wheat Thins…oh and the cold pizza.... plus one stop at Micky D’s......and one at Taco DingDong.....and the big pigfest at Johnny Carino's....oh and those cinnamon rolls.....I LOVED those cinnamon rolls..
Yeah, I know, shut up and get to the gym!
It's all so wrong
This will be very short. I have to go rethink my entire moral foundation.
I was confronted in the grocery store parking lot this evening by a well-dressed 20ish kid on a bicycle who informed me that since I admittedly had not read the book he was pimping, I could not possibly know 'true right from wrong'. I stopped loading my groceries long enough to look this guy in the eye and contemplate NOT turning the other cheek. Since I am weak from 40 days of chocolate sacrifice for the apparent WRONG religion and I am pretty sure that his mother in Albany is already counting the days until she gets her Mother's Day phone call, I resisted the temptation. But now I'm worried. If I do not, in fact, know true right from wrong, MAYBE that was the wrong thing to do!
I was confronted in the grocery store parking lot this evening by a well-dressed 20ish kid on a bicycle who informed me that since I admittedly had not read the book he was pimping, I could not possibly know 'true right from wrong'. I stopped loading my groceries long enough to look this guy in the eye and contemplate NOT turning the other cheek. Since I am weak from 40 days of chocolate sacrifice for the apparent WRONG religion and I am pretty sure that his mother in Albany is already counting the days until she gets her Mother's Day phone call, I resisted the temptation. But now I'm worried. If I do not, in fact, know true right from wrong, MAYBE that was the wrong thing to do!
Shredder Satisfaction
I admit I have a little affection for paper shredders.
I love a good shred session. When I've completed any kind of paperwork project, like income taxes, or paying bills, or almost any project at my paying job, there at the end usually sits a pile of stuff that needs to be shredded. Nothing says 'I'm done with that tedious task' like making jigsaw puzzles for crack addicts. I have even been known to pad the to-shred pile by adding things that really don't need to be shredded just because, well darn it, it is such a good feeling. Seriously, have you tried it?
So I got to thinking as I was shredding the other day. What if you could put ANYTHING you wanted in the paper shredder? Like....what if it were possible to shred everything that comes out of George Dubya's mouth? Or those gawd-awful Hush Puppies my husband insists on wearing.....in public? Definitely the lips of those chatty pre-teens behind you in the movie theater. I, personally would shred every pair of pantyhose in the world. And billboards, too - all of them. That would take a big shredder but it would be so worth it. And I think we can all agree that SPAM would be the first thing to go.
So what would YOU like to put in the cyber-shredder? Tell me!
But um....please don't say this blog cuz then I will have to shred your comment.
I love a good shred session. When I've completed any kind of paperwork project, like income taxes, or paying bills, or almost any project at my paying job, there at the end usually sits a pile of stuff that needs to be shredded. Nothing says 'I'm done with that tedious task' like making jigsaw puzzles for crack addicts. I have even been known to pad the to-shred pile by adding things that really don't need to be shredded just because, well darn it, it is such a good feeling. Seriously, have you tried it?
So I got to thinking as I was shredding the other day. What if you could put ANYTHING you wanted in the paper shredder? Like....what if it were possible to shred everything that comes out of George Dubya's mouth? Or those gawd-awful Hush Puppies my husband insists on wearing.....in public? Definitely the lips of those chatty pre-teens behind you in the movie theater. I, personally would shred every pair of pantyhose in the world. And billboards, too - all of them. That would take a big shredder but it would be so worth it. And I think we can all agree that SPAM would be the first thing to go.
So what would YOU like to put in the cyber-shredder? Tell me!
But um....please don't say this blog cuz then I will have to shred your comment.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
What's in your drawer?
In our living room we have an end table with a drawer. The drawer is useful for storing those odd little living room things like coasters and pens and batteries and paperclips and postcards that are too pretty to throw and, of course, maps of every national park in the western U.S. because you never know when you may get the urge to plan a camping trip to torture the teenagers.
It’s a pretty full drawer but it wasn’t always that way. In simpler times, when we owned barely one child, it was mostly empty.
When Lola was a bit shy of age 2 (I’m guessing here because I am, after all, the non-documenting parent) she had a relationship with that drawer that will stick with me long after Alzheimer’s has erased the memory of breakfast.
Lola used to put things in that drawer and close it and open it to see if the item was still there and when she saw that it was she would be SO surprised and take the item out, look at it and put it back in. Wash, rinse, repeat. Over and over. I vaguely remember some child development axiom that says this is an important step in learning that things which are out of sight, do not actually disappear for good. Whatever. I don’t know nothing about no child development but I do recognize something that will keep a kid entertained for hours.
Harmless fun. Until……
The child decides to put her hand in the drawer. And close it. Well, if it works with the little Weeble toy, it oughta work with your hand, right? Um, no. Which becomes evidenced by the primal screams that send the cat right up the drapes. So, open drawer, remove hand. Close drawer. Wait for pain to subside. Open drawer. Insert hand. Close drawer – not so hard this time because a little something was learned last time. Scream. Open drawer, remove hand. Look at hand. Put back in drawer. Close drawer. More gently this time because that may be the key. Cry in frustration. Stamp foot. Remove hand. Test again with the Weeble…..which works fine so….again.. with.. the.. other.. hand….
You probably wonder where I was in all this. Obviously nearby since I seem to know exactly what happened. Yes, indeed, I stood there watching the whole thing. Part disbelief and part intense curiosity – the very same things that make you unable to turn away from a bad car wreck!
I will admit here and now that very small people frighten me. I have no memory of being that age so I have nothing to work from. Sure I could read books and stuff but who has time for that – unless you don’t have any kids and then what would be the point? I worked full-time and my children were victims of daycare. "OH NO," you say "surely they are headed for rot and ruin." Um, no. So far so good. I think it was the best thing for them. Not because of anything those studies tell you about daycare but because they had teachers that were SO much more competent than their mother in the child development area (we won't even go into their father who thought everything should be done like his parents did it - thith ith ne hoding ny tongue on thath).
But really, daycare is so amazing. You hand over your whole monthly paycheck to these people and they tell you precisely what to worry about and what is normal. It's like a daily visit with the pediatrician. Jeez, they even potty train the kid for you and that would be worth all the rest of my money if I had any when I was done paying for daycare.
But I digress. So there I was watching the whole hand-slamming episode and part of me was thinking “I should take notes so Ms. Bonnie (who is a grandmother) can tell me if all this is normal” and the other part of me was thinking “this is like physics lab for toddlers”. Real hands-on learning, if you will.
Besides, she never once asked for my input and she does still own two fully functional hands leading me to think the lesson was eventually learned... without my help.
So you’re probably wondering "Jane, what does this have to do with anything in the here and now, 15 years later?" I was, too, for a minute but then I remembered where I was headed with this.
I have a drawer of my own. It’s called Wal*mart. As Omega and I left that store last night – without the photos that were ordered 9 days ago but weren’t available as promised, and without all the other things that we had picked out but, instead left at an empty checkout because there were precisely 2 checkouts open and no less than 10 people in each line, I thought about that drawer. I am certainly not condemning all Wal*marts and maybe not even the one in my neighborhood. Maybe I just have hideously bad luck. What I question is why I keep going back to a place that consistently gets me so riled! It really is ‘always something’ and still I GO BACK. I keep slamming my hand in the Wal*mart drawer.
I need to put a big sign on the dash of my car that says “Stay away from Wal*mart, STUPID!
Otherwise, I’m pretty sure my daughters are going to be taking notes so they can ask their Psychology teachers what to worry about and what is normal because there is no daycare for parents that are still employed and own the house you live in.
So, do you have a drawer of your own? Something you can’t seem to get through your head? Maybe you are just as masochistic as me.
It’s a pretty full drawer but it wasn’t always that way. In simpler times, when we owned barely one child, it was mostly empty.
When Lola was a bit shy of age 2 (I’m guessing here because I am, after all, the non-documenting parent) she had a relationship with that drawer that will stick with me long after Alzheimer’s has erased the memory of breakfast.
Lola used to put things in that drawer and close it and open it to see if the item was still there and when she saw that it was she would be SO surprised and take the item out, look at it and put it back in. Wash, rinse, repeat. Over and over. I vaguely remember some child development axiom that says this is an important step in learning that things which are out of sight, do not actually disappear for good. Whatever. I don’t know nothing about no child development but I do recognize something that will keep a kid entertained for hours.
Harmless fun. Until……
The child decides to put her hand in the drawer. And close it. Well, if it works with the little Weeble toy, it oughta work with your hand, right? Um, no. Which becomes evidenced by the primal screams that send the cat right up the drapes. So, open drawer, remove hand. Close drawer. Wait for pain to subside. Open drawer. Insert hand. Close drawer – not so hard this time because a little something was learned last time. Scream. Open drawer, remove hand. Look at hand. Put back in drawer. Close drawer. More gently this time because that may be the key. Cry in frustration. Stamp foot. Remove hand. Test again with the Weeble…..which works fine so….again.. with.. the.. other.. hand….
You probably wonder where I was in all this. Obviously nearby since I seem to know exactly what happened. Yes, indeed, I stood there watching the whole thing. Part disbelief and part intense curiosity – the very same things that make you unable to turn away from a bad car wreck!
I will admit here and now that very small people frighten me. I have no memory of being that age so I have nothing to work from. Sure I could read books and stuff but who has time for that – unless you don’t have any kids and then what would be the point? I worked full-time and my children were victims of daycare. "OH NO," you say "surely they are headed for rot and ruin." Um, no. So far so good. I think it was the best thing for them. Not because of anything those studies tell you about daycare but because they had teachers that were SO much more competent than their mother in the child development area (we won't even go into their father who thought everything should be done like his parents did it - thith ith ne hoding ny tongue on thath).
But really, daycare is so amazing. You hand over your whole monthly paycheck to these people and they tell you precisely what to worry about and what is normal. It's like a daily visit with the pediatrician. Jeez, they even potty train the kid for you and that would be worth all the rest of my money if I had any when I was done paying for daycare.
But I digress. So there I was watching the whole hand-slamming episode and part of me was thinking “I should take notes so Ms. Bonnie (who is a grandmother) can tell me if all this is normal” and the other part of me was thinking “this is like physics lab for toddlers”. Real hands-on learning, if you will.
Besides, she never once asked for my input and she does still own two fully functional hands leading me to think the lesson was eventually learned... without my help.
So you’re probably wondering "Jane, what does this have to do with anything in the here and now, 15 years later?" I was, too, for a minute but then I remembered where I was headed with this.
I have a drawer of my own. It’s called Wal*mart. As Omega and I left that store last night – without the photos that were ordered 9 days ago but weren’t available as promised, and without all the other things that we had picked out but, instead left at an empty checkout because there were precisely 2 checkouts open and no less than 10 people in each line, I thought about that drawer. I am certainly not condemning all Wal*marts and maybe not even the one in my neighborhood. Maybe I just have hideously bad luck. What I question is why I keep going back to a place that consistently gets me so riled! It really is ‘always something’ and still I GO BACK. I keep slamming my hand in the Wal*mart drawer.
I need to put a big sign on the dash of my car that says “Stay away from Wal*mart, STUPID!
Otherwise, I’m pretty sure my daughters are going to be taking notes so they can ask their Psychology teachers what to worry about and what is normal because there is no daycare for parents that are still employed and own the house you live in.
So, do you have a drawer of your own? Something you can’t seem to get through your head? Maybe you are just as masochistic as me.
Monday, April 2, 2007
April Fools - all month long
Setting: Monday morning.
Homer appears in front of Jane, dressed for work.
Jane gives Homer the once-over because he is back to dressing himself, post-injury.
Homer: What color do I accessorize?
Yes, Jane has taught him the word accessorize as it applies to belt and shoes.
Jane: Hmm....brown.
Homer: Then I'm going to do black because I think you might still be pissed at me for the remark about your silly shoes. Maybe you would like me to look JUST as silly.
Jane: Mmm, clever thinking......unless..... I was counting on you thinking that.
Homer should not ever try to beat Jane in the fashion arena.
Homer appears in front of Jane, dressed for work.
Jane gives Homer the once-over because he is back to dressing himself, post-injury.
Homer: What color do I accessorize?
Yes, Jane has taught him the word accessorize as it applies to belt and shoes.
Jane: Hmm....brown.
Homer: Then I'm going to do black because I think you might still be pissed at me for the remark about your silly shoes. Maybe you would like me to look JUST as silly.
Jane: Mmm, clever thinking......unless..... I was counting on you thinking that.
Homer should not ever try to beat Jane in the fashion arena.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
A Very Taxing Day
How (not) to get your taxes done.
Decide to assemble documentation needed to start income taxes.
Clear off dining room table for lots of room to spread out.
Notice that the table needs polishing.
Find polish and rag.
Polish table taking extra care not to get stuff in the crack where the leaf goes.
Observe how unpolished the chairs look in comparison.
Polish six chairs.
Might as well vacuum the seats, too.
Empty vacuum first for best results.
Vacuum chairs and stow vacuum.
Trip over @%#$ pair of shoes by door.
Take shoes to bedroom closet.
Realize that shoes need to be organized.
Organize shoes by color.
No, by heel height.
No….by color.
Discover cat bad-side-up on bed,
perform obligatory belly scratch.
Notice how much cat is shedding.
Find grooming brush.
Brush cat until he escapes and hides under chair.
Poke under chair with hanger.
Catch cat, brush until he escapes again.
Get Neosporin and bandaids.
Notice how much cat hair is now on pants.
Find magic sticky roller thing.
Remove non-sticky layer.
Experience peeling malfunction.
Curse cheapo sticky roller thing.
Finally get a complete new layer of sticky stuff.
De-hair sweatpants.
Decide it’s getting too warm for sweatpants.
Try on capris.
No, shorts
Run outside for a weather test.
Decide to go back to pants.
But some thinner ones.
Which must be down in the laundry room.
Along with a whole basket of clothes that need to be put away.
Empty basket.
Might as well throw a load in washer.
Use up last of detergent.
Put detergent on shopping list.
Thoroughly inventory refrigerator, freezer and pantry,
Put more things on shopping list.
Gather menu ideas for next few days.
Unable to locate favorite recipe.
Look it up online.
But first check email.
Curse overdue notices from library.
Send off a few emails.
Locate recipe.
Attempt to print but see printer is out of ink.
Remove cartridge.
Rifle through desk for replacement cartridge.
Which is also empty.
Find pen and manually write down recipe from computer screen.
Shake out hand cramp.
Apply IcyHot.
Put even MORE things on shopping list.
Take potty break.
Notice pretty nail polish on counter.
Try out nail polish on pinkie finger.
And ring finger and birdie finger and right on up through thumb.
On both hands.
Wave hands furiously to dry polish.
Turn on tv while waiting for second coat to dry.
The Victory Garden is on.
Watch the VG man trim rosebushes.
OH…..MY……HECK!!!!
Realize WE FORGOT TO TRIM THE ROSEBUSHES!
Run out to shed, grab pruner and with total disregard for damp nail polish, trim rosebushes.
Place trimmings in garbage.
Put pruner away.
Rearrange gardening tools from sharpest to dullest.
Realize manicure is total loss.
Look for nail polish remover.
Which is missing.
Find it on top of tv.
Remove nail polish.
Throw cotton balls in garbage.
Which is overflowing.
Empty wastebasket.
Hear mail truck.
Going UP the hill.
Sit on front step and wait for mailman to come back DOWN the hill.
Hey HERB! How's it going?
Shoot breeze with neighbor until mailman delivers.
Empty mailbox.
Sort through mail.
Act surprised to see a Bed, Bath and Beyond coupon.
Throw junk mail.
Shred 62 credit card apps.
Jam shredder.
Reverse shredder.
Shred same bunch of stuff but this time take a run at it.
Jam shredder again.
Observe very bad burning machinery smell.
Reverse shredder.
Reduce to more manageable layers.
Spray air freshener to hide smell.
Open window to get rid of air freshener smell.
Notice spring fresh smell outside.
Open more windows.
Open ALL the windows.
Find a National Geographic on couch.
Sit down to read for just a second.
Mm, interesting.
Think that monkeys are so lucky.
Read more.
Get comfortable.
Feel chill.
Get up and close window.
All of them.
Grab blanket.
Continue reading.
Doze.
For TWO hours.
Wake up.
Realize it’s dinner time.
Order pizza.
Set table.
Eat.
Clean off table again.
Notice it is too late to start working on taxes.
Take a bath.
Remark out loud, for everyone to hear, that doing taxes sure takes a LONG time.
Go to bed.
Decide to assemble documentation needed to start income taxes.
Clear off dining room table for lots of room to spread out.
Notice that the table needs polishing.
Find polish and rag.
Polish table taking extra care not to get stuff in the crack where the leaf goes.
Observe how unpolished the chairs look in comparison.
Polish six chairs.
Might as well vacuum the seats, too.
Empty vacuum first for best results.
Vacuum chairs and stow vacuum.
Trip over @%#$ pair of shoes by door.
Take shoes to bedroom closet.
Realize that shoes need to be organized.
Organize shoes by color.
No, by heel height.
No….by color.
Discover cat bad-side-up on bed,
perform obligatory belly scratch.
Notice how much cat is shedding.
Find grooming brush.
Brush cat until he escapes and hides under chair.
Poke under chair with hanger.
Catch cat, brush until he escapes again.
Get Neosporin and bandaids.
Notice how much cat hair is now on pants.
Find magic sticky roller thing.
Remove non-sticky layer.
Experience peeling malfunction.
Curse cheapo sticky roller thing.
Finally get a complete new layer of sticky stuff.
De-hair sweatpants.
Decide it’s getting too warm for sweatpants.
Try on capris.
No, shorts
Run outside for a weather test.
Decide to go back to pants.
But some thinner ones.
Which must be down in the laundry room.
Along with a whole basket of clothes that need to be put away.
Empty basket.
Might as well throw a load in washer.
Use up last of detergent.
Put detergent on shopping list.
Thoroughly inventory refrigerator, freezer and pantry,
Put more things on shopping list.
Gather menu ideas for next few days.
Unable to locate favorite recipe.
Look it up online.
But first check email.
Curse overdue notices from library.
Send off a few emails.
Locate recipe.
Attempt to print but see printer is out of ink.
Remove cartridge.
Rifle through desk for replacement cartridge.
Which is also empty.
Find pen and manually write down recipe from computer screen.
Shake out hand cramp.
Apply IcyHot.
Put even MORE things on shopping list.
Take potty break.
Notice pretty nail polish on counter.
Try out nail polish on pinkie finger.
And ring finger and birdie finger and right on up through thumb.
On both hands.
Wave hands furiously to dry polish.
Turn on tv while waiting for second coat to dry.
The Victory Garden is on.
Watch the VG man trim rosebushes.
OH…..MY……HECK!!!!
Realize WE FORGOT TO TRIM THE ROSEBUSHES!
Run out to shed, grab pruner and with total disregard for damp nail polish, trim rosebushes.
Place trimmings in garbage.
Put pruner away.
Rearrange gardening tools from sharpest to dullest.
Realize manicure is total loss.
Look for nail polish remover.
Which is missing.
Find it on top of tv.
Remove nail polish.
Throw cotton balls in garbage.
Which is overflowing.
Empty wastebasket.
Hear mail truck.
Going UP the hill.
Sit on front step and wait for mailman to come back DOWN the hill.
Hey HERB! How's it going?
Shoot breeze with neighbor until mailman delivers.
Empty mailbox.
Sort through mail.
Act surprised to see a Bed, Bath and Beyond coupon.
Throw junk mail.
Shred 62 credit card apps.
Jam shredder.
Reverse shredder.
Shred same bunch of stuff but this time take a run at it.
Jam shredder again.
Observe very bad burning machinery smell.
Reverse shredder.
Reduce to more manageable layers.
Spray air freshener to hide smell.
Open window to get rid of air freshener smell.
Notice spring fresh smell outside.
Open more windows.
Open ALL the windows.
Find a National Geographic on couch.
Sit down to read for just a second.
Mm, interesting.
Think that monkeys are so lucky.
Read more.
Get comfortable.
Feel chill.
Get up and close window.
All of them.
Grab blanket.
Continue reading.
Doze.
For TWO hours.
Wake up.
Realize it’s dinner time.
Order pizza.
Set table.
Eat.
Clean off table again.
Notice it is too late to start working on taxes.
Take a bath.
Remark out loud, for everyone to hear, that doing taxes sure takes a LONG time.
Go to bed.
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