Sunday, August 16, 2015
The dishwasher is humming, the washer is churning and there's at least four loads of laundry to get done for this week, and the floor is slightly sticky from who knows what. On top of that, this week brings a close to summer vacation and the added bonus of my finals. If I say that I've been a real bear during the last 8 months, I'm really being too kind.
It's Sunday morning and I'm flipping pancakes while my children are snuggled on the couch in their pajamas. You can just see their messy red beheads sticking out from the cocoon of blankets that they've made for themselves. They keep running into the kitchen, impatiently waiting for me to get done cooking. My husband is resting on the couch with them because he didn't sleep well last night. He stayed up late so we could watch a movie together because we don't get much alone time. He works full time and is working on his bachelors degree. We don't have much, but we have each other. And I just thought to myself, thank you God, for all of this.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
"... a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: nonhitchhiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, washcloth, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet-weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitchhiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitchhiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with. " -chapter 3 of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
What was my mistake? You guessed it, I was without towel tonight. And as a result of my initial towel failure, I am without any towels now.
Flash back to the end of another goofy episode of something Disney, I announce: "It's bathtime, everyone upstairs!" The boy gets in the shower, the girl gets in the tub, everyone is happy. This is too easy. I'm thinking. What's going on? Ahhh! I forgot a towel. Oh no. I go downstairs to hunt in the laundry room, because, well, I'm a laundry avoider.
In my absence, of exactly 3 minutes, approximately, (give or take a mini M&M cookie) the girl had squirted an entire bottle of soap all over herself in an effort to create a bubble sanctuary within the confines of the sliding-shower door tub. It was a frothy mess. We had to turn on the shower to stop the foam from multiplying. Which triggered some dramatic performance equivalent to the Wicked Witch of the West melting. She's got a thing for Broadway, what can I say? I finally retrieved her from The Wanka Mobile she had created in the bathtub, and I noticed a puddle forming in the hallway. I thought, "I just took the dog out, what is going on? Is the wall leaking?"
I followed the creek in the hallway, into my bedroom, and into my bathroom. Where the boy was taking his shower. He had decided he wanted to take a bath instead. Oh. No. Our conversation went something like this:
"This a shower, not a bath. If you'd like to take a bath, you can. You can even take a shower in a bath, but you cannot take a bath in a shower. So what was your mistake?"
Boy: "Covering the drain in the shower."
I had to go back downstairs to gather up every available towel we had to clean up the creek, because it was beginning to drip off of the top stair.
I'm laughing now. It really was funny. However, trying to heft an entire laundry basket of sopping-wet towels down the stairs, not so much. I pushed it off the top stair in hopes it would bobsled it's way down. Yeah, that didn't happen either. If you ever need a body moved, clearly I'm not the person to call.
My moral? Take the advice from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy:
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Completely confused, utterly disappointed in my lack of accomplishment, and reaching for a life jacket, I was reading a Google searched article on 'how to be a writer.' The author stated that they were 'accomplished' and listed such as a best selling author and featured article writer. I had never heard of the author, the book, nor the paper. Disheartened by the lackluster article, and distracted, I clicked the UF advertisement:"Be Greater, Be a Gator."
"You cannot open a new window until you close one."
I laughed as I was caught off gaurd at the poignant error message on my smart phone. Determined to reach the website, I closed out of the other windows so quickly, I accidentally closed out ALL of the windows.
An amazing metaphor for how I've been feeling lately.