The Keurig Is Fixed, But Our Floors Still Look Like Those In The Stable Where Jesus Was Born

Some weekends are full of THE PRODUCTIVITY, and some weekends are like this weekend.

On Friday morning, after a sleepless night spent rocking Thing 2 and insisting that he and I had to nail this issue of closing our eyes at NIGHT and DOING SOME SLEEPING THEN before kindergarten rolled around, otherwise Mama would be a dead mama from all the exhaustion, I stumbled to the kitchen before the rooster and turned on the Keurig coffee pot.  And that is the day when I learned how coffee will be made in hell, which is to say IT WON’T BE MADE THERE.  I had gathered my supplies (Sugar!  A spoon!  The jug of half and half!), I had popped my K-Cup into the machine, I had pressed the button, and this is what happened:

NOTHING.

I tried everything I could think of, which means YES!  I unplugged the machine and plugged it back in, because I knew the very first words out of my IT-Guy’s mouth would be, “Did you try rebooting?”  The Keurig was having none of the rebooting, because it had pretty much gone to be with Jesus, as far as I was concerned.

And that is how Hubs came to spend exactly fifteen minutes of his Saturday fixing the Keurig, and THAT, people, is the only bit of productivity that happened at the Jedi Manor this weekend.

The boy is on spring break this week, and, as luck would have it, so are the schools in Small Ranching Community, where his good buddy Ben lives.  So Ben called the boy with a hair-brained scheme, which involved the boy packing every piece of equipment he owns for hunting the big foot with and catching a ride South.  Because Ben had to come North to Smaller Town, USA to run a booth at the 4H carnival, Hubs and Thing 2 and I drove the boy there and dropped him off for a three-night vacation with Ben and his family.

The boy has never been away from home for more than two nights before this weekend, and, people!  I am missing my kid!  I told my neighbor that I’m now very firm on homeschooling the boy for college, because I’ve decided that he’s not moving off to Harvard after all.  Hubs insists that the boy’s upcoming teenage years will change my opinion on this, and that I’ll probably be using the Internet to request that military schools send me their brochures.

Hubs’ parents met us in Smaller Town, where we joined them for dinner at a swanky little hotspot.  I had a piece of halibut and a slice of lemon chiffon cake that forever changed my life for the better.  By dinner’s end, I was so full, I told Hubs, “I have to sit up nice and tall, because if I slouch, my full gut presses on my lungs and I suffocate.”

And THAT, people, is a sentence which will make you appear VERY ATTRACTIVE in the eyes of a man.  Oh, yes!  It will!

And then, after having dumped the boy and enough suitcases and duffel bags to fully outfit him for six weeks with Ben, Hubs and I brought Thing 2 home.  We put on our yoga pants, because the jeans were making breathing laborious after the slab of lemon chiffon cake, and I proceeded to sit on the sofa and lose three games of Words With Friends.  And then Hubs introduced me to a new game called Draw Something.  Apparently I was the last person in America to hear about this game.  Hubs and I had a blast drawing pictures on our phones, Pictionary-style, and we laughed until we wept when Hubs drew a stick figure of a man with a goatee who was rocking a baby wrapped in a pink blanket.

It took me three entire guesses before I realized it was Billy Ray Cyrus, and we both erupted into a fit of hysterical laughter that made breathing hurt (due to the inability to fully expand my lungs, because of HALIBUT and because of LEMON CHIFFON CAKE).  I think it’s safe to say that Hubs’ stick-figure drawings are classic.

And then we went to bed, because we knew that Thing 2 would be up multiple times screeching for some milk and a good snuggle.

(Hubs would also like a note made in this blog post that he DID NOT wear yoga pants on Friday night, because he doesn’t do yoga.  Nor does he own outfits conducive for yoga.  He wants y’all to know that he wore a very manly pair of blue-and-orange-plaid Denver Bronco pajama bottoms and an old Coca Cola T-shirt that has seen better days.  Better days that existed in the ’80s, I think.)

On Saturday, I was not at the top of my game, so I laid on the sofa for six hours.  I wore a different pair of yoga pants.  Hubs wore a pair of Adidas wind pants.  He sat on the loveseat across from me in the living room and played six uninterrupted hours of some game on his iPad, which involved him taking over planets and colonizing them.  Thing 2 spent most of Saturday sleeping, because it was daylight, and because Thing 2 SLEEPS WHEN THE SUN IS SHINING.

On Saturday evening, after Thing 2 had sighed with contentment in his bath and screamed at full volume over lotion being smeared all over his person, I rocked him to sleep, and then Hubs and I caught up on several episodes of The Big Bang Theory.  We were CONSIDERABLY BEHIND in our TV-show viewing for March, because when Thing 2 goes  to bed in the evenings, WE ALL GO TO BED.

And then the boy called at 9 PM from Small Ranching Community, just to check in, and he talked 200 mph, because he had just gotten back from his VERY FIRST AUCTION EVER IN HIS ENTIRE ELEVEN YEARS, and yes!  He had bid on an adding machine, and he had won it!  He was happy as a clam, $35 poorer, and the owner of a vintage adding machine that came with a partial roll of unused ticker tape.  And then he let me know that he and Ben had set up Base Camp 1 at Ben’s ranch, and they had strapped the boy’s game camera to a tree, and were planning to sit outside in the dark with the night vision goggles until they had caught themselves a Sasquatch.

I imagine they’re still sitting there, but I can’t imagine why.  I’m sure that the hills in Small Ranching Community are simply TEEMING with 9-foot-tall gorillas who walk upright and wear a size 42D shoe.

Today, Hubs and I took Thing 2 to church.

And then we met my parents and my dad’s cousin and his family downtown for lunch.

And then Hubs and I went to Walmart, which was a mistake, because the local Walmart on a weekday will send Hubs into a tailspin and make him hyperventilate with all the STRESS and the FRUSTRATION.  Hubs in Walmart on A WEEKEND is equivalent to Jeff Gordon taking the Greyhound bus across the United States to go visit his grandmother, because I’m sure the man cannot tolerate the slowness.

And Hubs cannot tolerate the crowds.

We did our shopping, and only stopped to visit with nine different people before we hit the checkout lanes, and yes!  We got into THE SLOWEST lane of all time, which was manned by Rainman’s sister.  The veins in Hubs’ neck were standing out, because he was trying diligently to be a good Christian boy and not make any horrible comments.  This lasted until it was FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY our turn, and the checker grabbed our fudge bars and asked, “Oh!  Is this ice cream?  Maybe I should put it into a paper sack.”  Without missing a beat, Hubs said, “It WAS ice cream when we got into this line, but now it’s just a box of chocolate milk.”

And then we came home, people.  And, in keeping with our weekend style, we took turns snuggling Thing 2 and eating pretzel M&Ms.

And then Hubs hollered at one point, “Look!  Thing 2 likes Waylon Jennings’ songs playing on my iPad!”

And also?

Do y’all remember the scene in the movie ET, when ET is hiding in the closet with all the stuffed animals?

Yeah.

Well, Hubs and I remember that scene, too, and we were just crazy enough to recreate it this afternoon.

It’s what happens when the boy isn’t here to entertain us, and when the only piece of productive work we have is to fix the Keurig so that Mama can caffeinate herself after a long night.

(And go ahead and say it:  THAT IS ONE DANG CUTE BABY!)

(Hubs and I are head over heels in love with him!)

May y’all have a weekend sometime soon exactly like this one, because Hubs and I are recharged and ready for Monday.

Because the boy will finally be back home, toting his adding machine, his Big Foot surveillance equipment, and one hundred pounds of dirty, mud-caked laundry, and I intend to hug the tarnation out of him as soon as he bursts through our front door!

Happy Sunday night.

2 thoughts on “The Keurig Is Fixed, But Our Floors Still Look Like Those In The Stable Where Jesus Was Born

  1. The funny thing is that when I read “we” put on “our” yoga pants I thought “wow, hubs owns yoga pants. isn’t that interesting?” Broncos plaid PJ’s sounds more appropriate and by the sounds of the coke t-shirt, I suspect the top and bottom didn’t match. Much like what I usually see lounging on the couch beside me.

  2. Look at that sweet little Cards fan, laying next to the Cabbage Patch doll. You guys crack me up. Nice staging!

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