May 19, 2006 | Offspring: ecstasy and agony

When I agreed to a sleepover extravaganza, I thought I was being very clever, and here is why: I offered a “regular” party with the typical dozen guests, or a sleepover with just two friends. Just two friends! I was going to get off easy!

Having just one friend sleep over didn’t seem very party-like, and the thought of having more than two other kids here for 12+ hours made me want to curl into the fetal position in the corner. But I had forgotten what happens in a group of three.

You might argue that this was fitting, seeing as how I’d also forgotten how much I dislike dealing with other people’s children, how hyper boys are when allowed to assemble in groups, and that many children normally go to bed much later than my kids.
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May 18, 2006 | I'm dating the television

Is it a bad sign when watching the horrifying season finale of ER cheers me up a little bit…?

In other news: The long-delayed testosterone sleepover birthday party is happening here tomorrow, even if I have to put all of the boys in boats and give out oars as party favors.

And the forecast is calling for heavy rain.

What do I do all day?

[Well, except for this: And lo, on the third day, the water table did begin to recede. As of about 2:00 this afternoon, the pumps are actually removing water instead of just maintaining. I expect to hit concrete tomorrow. Never before have I been so excited by the prospect of seeing floor. I turned the pump off at 12:30 because I was afraid to let it run all night, and the water was down to half an inch. This morning? Four inches. KILL. ME.]

Anyway. Hi! The kids went back to school today, so I decided to pretend Life Is Normal.

After all, life IS normal. Right? Work to be done. Dishes to be washed. Kids to be yelled at. Crazy people to be avoided. Groceries to buy. And, um, killer dandelions. Aaaaaaaaaall perfectly normal.
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May 17, 2006 | My name is Grumplestiltskin

I particularly like the juxtaposition of the paper bag which is floating by, a couple of inches ABOVE the submerged carpet.

Yeah.

May 15, 2006 | My name is Grumplestiltskin

We have a featured appetizer this evening, it’s a delicately placed Hunter Douglas blind over the largest window. It cost entirely too much money when purchased, and now when you attempt to lower it after a crummy day, the cord pops right off and the blind is rendered unusable. It comes with a string of obscenities on the side.

Tonight’s special entree is swamp basement, layered with swirling cardboard and unidentified detritus on top of a flaking concrete surface. It is topped with mysterious hairballs and errant Candyland cards. The chef recommends the swamp basement be paired with a small sump pump and an assortment of buckets. It is best enjoyed in soggy sandals, so as allow your feet to freeze.

For dessert, might I recommend yet a second day of cancelled school, topped with a generous drizzle of ant infestation?
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My name is Grumplestiltskin

I’m taking a break. I am trying not to think about how hopeless this is.

There’s a drain in the basement. Rather than absorbing run-off, it appears to be the source of the flooding. The water table is so high, the water just keeps coming in.

A neighbor and I spent 3 hours pumping and bailing. Then my ex arrived and we worked another 2 hours with the shop vac and various pump set-ups. Eventually we gave up and are now just trying to put things up on shelves or remove entirely anything we can drag out of there. It already stinks to high heaven, and–oh yeah–isn’t covered under my homeowner’s insurance.

Here’s what it looked like after we brought the water level down a few inches. Notice that the sump pump must be immersed in order to work, so it’s a rousing game of Fill The Receptacles and pour, pour, pour to keep things going.

Hey, at least my ex is being really helpful. Possibly because I keep crying.

My name is Grumplestiltskin

Add to the list of things never to say:

Oh, no, I’m not worried. We’ve never had flooding in this house.

May 14, 2006 | Offspring: ecstasy and agony

Lo, daylight did break, except not really, because daylight didn’t so much “break” as it did “half-heartedly glow grey” behind all the rain. Monkey climbed into bed with me at 5:30.

“Ohhhhh, Buddy, nonono. Too early to get up.” My face may have been buried in the pillow. It may have come out “Ohhhhh, Buddy, mmphffgg. Ooo errmph et mph.”

He patted my hair. “I’ll just sleep a little right here,” he assured me. “Happy Mother’s Day!” And then he sprawled out in the middle of the bed and poked his icy cold feet into my crotch.

My day, indeed.
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May 13, 2006 | Health is overrated

So it appears, from the lackluster response to the previous post, that y’all are just as underwhelmed about the whole “getting out there and meeting people” thing as I am. I was anticipating a bunch of inspiration and instead I sort of feel like… hey, so what if I die alone! Lots of people do that! And I am rather enjoying having deep discussions with my bedside lamp! It’s an excellent listener and that’s almost like having a mate!

Stop snickering at me. My lamp says you’re just jealous.

But you know, the thing that I worry about, is that I fear I’m becoming out of practice with the whole normal socialization thing. (Translation: I think I’m getting weird. Weirder than before, anyway.)
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May 11, 2006 | I'm dating the television

(But not really.)

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to continue the theme of yesterday’s post, except in a less cynical vein. I’ve told you what men are doing wrong. (And I cannot BELIEVE I forgot to mention appropriate handle usage. Nothing containing “knight” or referring to your car or your salary or how hot you believe yourself to be. Okay, I feel better now.)

Today I turn the floor over to you. Write my personal ad. There are… *checking* 975 (!!) posts here to use as fodder. What would be an accurate representation of me that does NOT bring The Crazy sniffing around?

I do believe there shall be prizes involved. Oh, yes. On your mark… get set… TYPE!