Didn’t We Just Do a List?

1. When your brain feels like it’s full of soggy oatmeal, because you’ve had a long day that involved much housework and much laundry and a cross-country trip to Gymnastics Land, USA, you are allowed to use another list for your nightly blog post. Back-to-back.

2. If your head was clear, and you’d actually had a good night’s sleep the night before, you probably couldn’t get away with back-to-back lists.

3. Hubs and I heard water sloshing in the middle of the night. I am the proverbial light sleeper, who wakes up at the slightest noise. Hubs is my complete opposite. He is the proverbial rock, who sleeps through trains, tornadoes, and mushroom clouds. Last night, I jerked awake because I had distinctly heard water sloshing somewhere. At first, I thought that perhaps I’d simply been dreaming, because I once endured a dream in which our fish tank plum exploded. When Hubs sat up in bed and asked me, “What was that?” I knew that water had, indeed, sloshed. So I got up, and prowled the house. The fish tank was fine. The toilets were fine. The tubs and the sinks were fine. The floors were dry. We could find no evidence that there had been a Great Water Sloshing Event. Hubs went back to sleep eight seconds later. I was awake for the next two and a half hours.

4. This morning, as I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes, I realized that the bright red tulip that the boy had picked for me this weekend and stuck in a juice jar was missing. With water dotted here and there, all over my kitchen counter. I think we can close the file folder on the Case of the Sloshing Water in the Middle of the Night. Nancy Drew’s work is done here. Amazingly enough, the cat responsible is still breathing. Still taking oxygen in; still letting carbon dioxide out. Hubs congratulated me on my self-restraint, as I was set to skin the cat. When I went in search of her this morning, ready to dish out Punishment with a capital P, she was curled up into the smallest ball imaginable, on the blanket on the foot of our bed, sleeping. She looked like an angelic little kitten. I couldn’t beat her. Sadly, the tulip which the boy brought to me is no longer with us.

5. Hubs has been in mourning since Saturday night, and he’s wanted to fly black banners at our house to announce to the world that the Colorado Avalanche have successfully put themselves out of the playoffs. If you see Hubs this week, you might scoot up next to him, pat his back and say, “We’re so sorry to hear about the loss of your Stanley Cup ’10 dreams.” Hubs has made every excuse known to man for the Avs. They were a young team. They were an injured team. They gained enough experience this season to completely dominate and skate over the tops of all Canadian teams and Detroit next year. Oh, how Hubs and the Detroit Red Wings do not get along. Our friend, Amy, adores Detroit. Whenever she expects to see Hubs somewhere, she will deliberately wear her Red Wings T-shirt, and she will grin from ear to ear. Hubs will then lean over and tell me, “I don’t want you hanging out with Amy anymore, until she’s entered rehab and gotten help for her Detroit addiction. She’s a bad influence on you.”

6. Hubs has a Man Cold. Enough said. It’s touch and go right now. He can’t breathe through his nose. He has shuffled along most of the day today, mumbling, “I’m sick” to anyone who will listen.

7. My throat is so scratchy, it feels like I swallowed a full-grown cactus. Sideways. Cacti needles protruding from my throat are completely eclipsed by the Man Cold. I get no sympathy. Hubs is sick. He told me this morning, “I was sick first, so you and your sore throat can just stand down!”

8. So when you have a blood clot right after your son is born, and you end up on Coumadin for the rest of your life, you get to have blood work done on a fairly regular basis. My pro-time (which is my clotting rate) was a little low a couple of weeks ago, so my doctor increased my dosage of Coumadin. I had my blood work redone today to check things out. Yeah. I am a stroke waiting to happen. My pro-time was through the roof. I have been advised to pull off the Coumadin for a couple of days, and let my blood thicken up a bit. I may wear a helmet this week. I’m pretty sure it’ll go nicely with my geriatric shoes. (The geriatric shoes with the curvy bottoms, which I love.)

9. Don’t worry about my pro-time, if you were going to. Two days of being Coumadin-free will throw me right back to normal, and I’ll be able to take the helmet off, and my doctor and I will start from Ground Zero with the dosages again. I’ve played this game a time or two or eighty-six.

10. The central vacuum cleaner may be my new best friend. The only bummer is that I have been stepping on the 30-foot-long hose today. I have to get used to pulling thirty-feet of Vacuuming Power behind me. And let’s talk about that Vacuuming Power, shall we? I think the Queen Mother of All Vacuums has it in her to suck the nails completely out of my sub-flooring. I’m afraid to even go look in the giant canister hanging on our garage wall. It’s probably going to be filled with all sorts of horribleness, which I had no idea even existed in our area rugs.

11. Hubs rode with us to Gymnastics Land, USA tonight, because Hubs wanted some dinner. He has the Man Cold, and he wanted to feed it a submarine sandwich from the little speciality sub shop in Gymnastics Land. He also brought Dave and Missi’s laptop with him, because he was determined to fix it on the drive over. When we arrived in Gymnastics Land and dropped the boy and Ryan off, so that they could flip around on the mats and hang upside down from bars, Hubs had me drive around, because he needed to get online, people. And he needed to find an unsecured network somewhere to do this. So I drove, and Hubs called out in his stuffy, Man-Cold voice, “Drive. Wait! Stop! No. Not a good enough connection. Drive! Wait! Stop!” We did this for what seemed like forever, and Hubs was convinced that Gymnastics Land, USA had their networks strapped down tighter than the lid on a brand-new jar of pickles. But then, low! We passed a little brown house, and Hubs yelled out, “STOP!” And he had a pristine connection.

12. Dear Little Brown House With the Rock Trim, You’re a cute little house, but listen. Your network is not secured, which means thieves like Hubs can park outside your front door and use your Internet connection. Your Internet connection which you have paid hard-earned American dollars to have at your house. If you’re interested, Hubs would be happy to sell you some software which will keep this from happening to you ever again. Hubs apologizes for stealing time on your connection, but he needed it to properly diagnose Missi’s laptop illnesses. I hope we didn’t cause you any undue alarm, as we parked in front of your house for ten minutes and spooned off of your network. Sincerely, Jedi Mama.

13. I tripped over a golf club this morning. It was on my dining room floor. I literally stumbled right over it, and nearly hit the floor, but I managed to catch myself on the wall. The boy saw the entire spectacle unfold, and as soon as I had regained my balance, he looked at me and said, “I think I need to put the putter back in the golf bag, huh?” Really? Ya think? Doesn’t everyone keep them on their dining room floors?

14. My favorite quote of the day was this one, spoken by my favorite boy: “Hey, Mom, you know what? I’d like soccer a whole lot better if it was golf.” Yeah. We have him in the gifted programs.

15. Last night, I was reading in bed, which is absolutely normal. I do that pretty much every night. Hubs was laying on his side of the bed, watching some strange show on his laptop. He had his headphones plugged in. Without any warning whatsoever, Hubs jumped, because a mummy-like creature covered in slimy goo had popped out on the show. Hubs jumped so hard, he scared the snot right out of me. I flung my arms wide, and I threw my book (quite accidentally!) to the middle of the bed. Cat 2 nearly wet down her leg, as Hubs scared her, too, and she bolted to the floor, where she scurried to safety. Two seconds later, Hubs burst out laughing and said, “Oh, man! That thing scared me!” Yeah. Well, Hubs, when it scared YOU, you scared me and Cat 2. Hubs was quite embarrassed. Hubs NEVER gets scared in movies. Ever. Not at all. Hubs is a brave soul, who never needs to cover is eyeballs. I laughed and laughed, after I’d slowed my heart rate down last night and recovered my book. If you see Hubs this week, go ahead and pat him on the back and say, “Those poor Avalanche! Dang! And I hope the next mummy covered in slimy goo doesn’t spook you too badly!”

16. And now, I have to wrap things up, because I have to be Nurse Mama and go administer NyQuil to Hubs. For his Man Cold. So that he can sleep. Because, if left to his own defenses, Hubs will self-medicate with a cold Coke and nothing else. He will thrash around in congested misery, unless I intervene, hold him down like a four-year-old boy, and shove NyQuil into his system. People, the NyQuil is actually for me! I give it to Hubs so that he won’t wake ME up in the middle of the night with his Man Cold symptoms.

Happy Monday night.

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