I May Actually Buy A New Power Cord For My Phone This Week

I  have absolutely no noteworthy topic to write about tonight.

I feel like I should just add a nice THE END to that last sentence and call it good, but you know me.  I’ll forge ahead like Lewis and Clark, and just write about nothing.

(Not that Lewis and Clark wrote about nothing, but they were very good about plowing forward.)

Last night was one of those IT ISN’T EVEN CHRISTMAS kind of nights, and yet I was still in bed at 7:38.

Seven.  And thirty-eight minutes after that.  My twenty-two-year-old self just gagged a little and screamed, “I really won’t be like that when I’m elderly!”  But she IS like that.  Gone is her perfectly smooth skin and her ability to remain wide awake and see that yes, 10:00 actually comes twice in a twenty-four hour period.

Thing 2 had some issues yesterday, and by issues, I mean he was just flat-out tired, and his activity of choice last night was to lay on the hardwood floor and beg for milk and his pajamas.  That’s his cue that YES, I’LL FINALLY ADMIT DEFEAT AND LET Y’ALL KNOW THAT I’M A WEE BIT TIRED NOW, but I was reluctant to put him to bed at 6:30, because he already gets up at hours that the Good Lord never intended for anyone, other than farmers and donut makers, to actually see.  I knew that my baby boy needed to be rocked to sleep at 6:30 last night, but visions of me trying to find Mickey Mouse’s Playhouse on the TV, without my contacts in, at 3:30 in the morning made me wait a little bit longer.

By 7:00 last night, we had to throw the towel in.  The poor child was rolling around on the floor, chanting for his bottle of milk and it seemed cruel to make him wait any longer, regardless of the fact that I had no desire to be awake before 5:00.  Thing 2 had his teeth brushed.  He got his jammies on.  He had a storybook and a bottle, and then we rocked, and boom!  He closed his eyes and passed out cold.

Which was why Hubs and I left the boy slaving over his homework, up alone, and we went to bed at precisely 7:38, where we called Netflix up on the iPad and watched three back-to-back episodes of Raising Hope.  We laughed until our sides hurt, and that was probably because we recognized both of ourselves in Bert and Virgina.

I told Hubs, “Why do we see ourselves in the goofiest married couples on television?  Why is it always Bert and Virginia, and Mike and Frankie Heck who make us feel like we’ve caught a glimpse into our own lives?  Why can’t it be Prince William and Kate?  WHY???

Probably because William and Kate have never owned an iron with a frayed cord that zapped you every time you tried to press the clothes, until you were smart enough to just wear a rubber kitchen glove.

(Not that OUR iron behaves this way, but that’s what Bert was doing in one of the shows last night… biting on a wooden spoon, wearing his rubber, dish-washing glove, and ironing away, as the iron kept zapping him.  BUT… I once had a curling iron EXPLODE.  IN.  MY.  HAND. while my hair was still clamped in it, because the cord was frayed, and AT THIS VERY MOMENT IN TIME, the power cord to my iPhone is about to snap in half, and probably poses a great risk to my health.  We feel like the writers of Raising Hope may have peeked into the cords in our lives as they wrote the Ironing Episode.)

(And we’re really rather certain that William and Kate only have pristine electrical cords at their palace.)



I think I was pretty much sound asleep by 8:45 last night, so when Thing 2 got up at 5:10 this morning, I was ready for him.

And then we spent the day playing in a tub filled with dried beans.  We filled plastic cups with dried beans.  We poured dried beans.  We counted dried beans.  We scooped dried beans.  We dug through dried beans.  We threw dried beans all over the floor and made Mama crazy.  But… it’s safe to say that dried beans are more fun than Matchbox cars sometimes.

And I put a homemade chicken noodle soup in the crockpot first thing this morning, which made me feel like my life was organized and that I was perhaps still in the running for Mother of the Year, ’14.  Nothing says I LOVE YOU more than chopping up carrots and celery and onion for your family at 8:30 in the morning, but I’d had a full night’s rest, and I felt empowered to take dinner on EARLY.

And then I did forty-seven loads of laundry today.  I was still riding the high of I WENT TO THE GROCERY STORE AND DUMPED ENOUGH MONEY TO BUY A USED CADILLAC, AND BEHOLD!  THE FRIDGE IS FULL AND THE PANTRY IS BUSTING AT THE SEAMS!, so I decided to do something about the mountain of dirty clothes piled up in our closet.

And that, people, was pretty much everything that’s happened in the previous twenty-four hours, since I checked in here last.

Y’all have a good night.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *