Sometimes I sit down to write something and I feel like such a colossal douche I consider just skipping the blog entry and ridiculing myself internally, instead. But then I realize that’s no fun at all, and I share it all with you.
YOU ARE WELCOME.
Here at Casa Mir I am fraught with THE BUSY, because time is running out, school vacation and The Big Trek North are almost upon us, and there are a million things I have not done, cannot do, must accomplish, blah blah blahbbity blahhhhhh and all of it is unimportant, I mean mostly, and yet it’s eating up my head space. I’m forever exhorting my children to USE ALL THAT BRAIN POWER FOR GOOD RATHER THAN EVIL, and perhaps I should take my own advice. Except in my case I should probably use that brain power for the betterment of humanity instead of for middle-class minutiae. And I will. As soon as I take care of this other stuff.
Pre-travel grooming. Don’t even try to tell me you don’t do this sort of thing. I mean, maybe for you it doesn’t involve trying to touch up your roots and give yourself a quick pedicure, but I believe just about everyone has some sort of various rituals they necessary to complete before they go on a trip. Notice how I’m not talking about any waxing that may need to happen ahead of time (you’re welcome, again), and focusing only on the stuff I may have screwed up.
While painting my toenails, my darling daughter asked me where I was going. I was confused. I finally said, “Nowhere…?” and she said, “Well you usually only do your toes in the summer or if you’re doing something fancy.” I tried to convince her that her grandparents feel strongly about me having a proper pedicure at all times, but I don’t think she bought it. And then later she told me my toes looked nice but that color would look better on her. And she’s probably right.
Also, every time I try to dye my own damn hair I make it too dark, so last night I carefully did my roots and then washed it out maybe five minutes early. I should’ve just risked being too dark; the coverage is spotty at best, and I feel stupid. And there are starving people in Africa who don’t care that they’re prematurely gray, I know.
Traveling pharmacy. Between the three of us (Otto is the only healthy one in the family, dontchaknow), we have something like twenty-seven prescriptions (not really), none of which are refillable at the same time. And the kids are going to be away for a while and so I need a vacation override from the insurance company to even get their meds, and the pharmacist actually suggested to me that I just transfer all their ‘scripts to a pharmacy up in New England “to make things easier.” Uh, no. We will literally have to stop by the pharmacy on our way out of town to get the last of our meds. Fun!
Door to door… garbage? Some random guy came to the door a month ago and tried to get me to sign up with a different waste disposal company (fancy language for garbage/recycling pickup). His flyer has been sitting on my desk for a month. I finally decided to switch us. So I had to call them. And get scheduled. And call the other company. And get them to take away their containers. And send a final bill. Why I decided this needed to happen during what is possibly my busiest week of the year, I cannot tell you. (Wait, I can: Mental illness.)
Use it or lose it. So remember when I was considering a bite splint last year? Otto made me put a hunk of money into our health care spending account for it, but I really just could not get over the cost. And then I kind of got better and we never bought the splint. Except now we have a bunch of money in that account which has to be spent by December 31st or it goes POOF and so we’re all WHO NEEDS GLASSES? WHO NEEDS CONTACTS? Otto got new glasses last week, and I ran out today and allowed the cute young optician to talk me into a pair of designer sunglasses that, on second thought, are probably going to make me feel like a Real Housewife. I felt pretentious just trying them on. But I also… kinda liked them. SO. There we are.
This afternoon, Chickadee is going in for her annual eye exam, and then getting fitted for daily contacts instead of the monthlies she’s currently wearing. I figure that as long as she has bionic eyeballs and we have money to burn, we may as well do away with the saline and the feeling of insane rage I tend to feel when a contact that is supposed to last for a month rips on the first wearing.
Cookie tragedy. I fully intended to do my regular holiday bake-a-thon and give cookies to teachers and everything, but currently the electrical panel on our range/oven is dying a slow and agonizing death. It started when the quick-boil burner button would no longer respond, and we said FINE, we have three other burners, not a big deal. But now I can no longer turn on the oven. I can, however, BROIL or CONVECT. Broiled cookies sound… crunchy… but I may be able to cheat and convect the cookies? I don’t know. I only know I have to try. Because otherwise I’m afraid Monkey might kill me in my sleep. Ever since I mentioned making cookies he’s been waiting not-so-patiently.
Shopping surrender. While a huge chunk of my job is helping other people shop, I was finding that I was completely stumped on a Christmas present for Monkey this year. The situation had nearly reached critical neurosis when Otto and I discovered something we bought for him LAST year that we opted not to give him after the kids came back from the Stuff-A-Thon at their Dad’s house, and we felt like no more presents were needed. Problem solved! Except this is not exactly making me feel like Mother of the Year.
We wish you a merry whatever. Also, for the first time, we’re not putting up a tree this year. We just… ran out of time, and it seems silly to drag everything out. BUT I HAVE GUILT. Yesterday I put our candle lamps in the windows, because I needed a LITTLE Christmas, and the kids promptly asked me where the tree was.
I told them Santa crossed us off his list because we’re too annoying. And part of that statement is totally true.