So just as it always does, life creeps up and smacks me in the face. It’s always something.
Right now as I type this, I should be doing other things. Like laundry. Dishes. Bathing children. Reading to children. Playing with children. Shaving my legs. Plucking my eyebrows. Cleaning out the garage. But instead I’m sitting here typing this because my life is so hysterical I need to write it all down so I can cheer myself up when I’d wallowing in my own misery.
Little Man is whining. He just climbed up on my lap, pulled my shirt down, looked at my chest and laughed out loud. HE LAUGHED OUT LOUD. Nice. He’s 2. He even knows Mama’s not lookin’ so hot lately. Thanks for the reminder, babe. Part of that problem was caused by you, you know.
Someone’s car alarm has been going off for about a half hour across the street at the high school. I might take a bat and head over there any minute now.
Speaking of bats, Little Man just jumped down from my lap and is hitting a miniature souvenir Louisville Slugger bat (the ones you get at the museum) against the floor, trying to hit these metal balls around the house. His version of baseball golf, I suppose.
Middle Man came out a few minutes ago and said his butt itches.
Our oldest stayed home today because he’s been having bad asthma attacks. Doc says he has to stay home again tomorrow. When he’s not nebulizing his brains out on the couch, he’s whining and wheezing and coughing and moaning and complaining and asking if he can play Wii.
Something stinks in the fridge. I can’t find it. It’s like the time a couple months ago when I smelled something in Little Man’s room and swore it had to be a runaway sippy cup filled with curdled milk. I was looking ALL OVER THAT FREAKIN’ ROOM for the smell. Nothing. I emptied the toy box not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES looking for what was causing the rank stench. I thought maybe it wasn’t a sippy cup, but instead a dirty diaper that ended up in the bedroom instead of the trash. I WAS LITERALLY SMASHING MY FACE AGAINST THE WALLS AND RUNNING MY FACE UP AND DOWN, SNIFFING THE WALLS.
I was SNIFFING THE WALLS.
Then, holy hell. It hit me. I pulled out an outlet cover and about fell over backwards at the nasty smell of DEATH that blew into my face.
SOMETHING WAS DEAD IN BETWEEN THE WALLS.
Now I have a stench in the fridge. Nothing seems out of place or old. SO … hmm. Another mystery.
The drain in our shower isn’t draining well at all.
I need to dust so the dust bunnies aren’t crawling up our oldest son’s nose to make him more irritated and asthma-attacky (that’s my new phrase).
Car alarm finally stopped.
Timer on the microwave is blinking END.
Gotta go do something more productive than this.