A several-day absence here is somewhat unprecedented for me—even when I had my hysterectomy, even when I was felled by the flu, heck, even when I went and got married, in the five and a half years this place has been around, I’ve generally not gone more than a couple of days between postings.
Which means something really CRAZY must’ve happened this week/weekend to keep me away. Something unbelievable. Something all-encompassing. Something that took all of my time and attention and strength!
Yes. Well. Um. See, we’d had my folks here all week, and then there was Black Friday and there were leftovers to eat and days to spent in pajamas and children to snuggle and a dog to walk, and… then it was Monday. Hello, Monday!
Oh, there was more than that, of course. But mostly it was just a whole lot of nothing, and sometimes nothing is exactly what I need. Why, I read an entire book! It was lovely.
This is not to say that nothing exciting happened. Because it totally did. Like, my my kitchen appliances continue to implode at an alarming rate. (Moral of the story: Free appliances may be worth exactly what you pay for them.) And Monkey has a new cold, that started with him completely losing his voice for most of a day.
For most of a day, it was very quiet here. It was… kind of nice.
Then his voice sort of came back, and for two days he was extremely squeaky, which meant that the dog always looked up with grave concern whenever Monkey spoke, because it sort of sounded like him, but it also sort of sounded like he was talking quietly while squeezing a handful of mice.
Now it’s just a regular garden-variety head cold, which means if you’re looking for my son, he’s most likely in my bathroom with the Neti pot, flushing his sinuses and delivering a string of commentary on the contents he just washed into the sink. Why yes, that is JUST as disgusting as it sounds, thanks.
(I guess I can’t really blame him for being his mother’s son. Poor Otto was trying to eat breakfast this morning and I was remarking on the weirdness of Monkey’s sinuses over the years, concluding with the mystery nostril story, which may not have been the most polite mealtime conversation ever.)
Also, Chickadee is hard at work on her project for the Science Fair, by which I mean that she is doing a lot of stomping and whining and rolling her eyes, and finally this weekend it got to where we sat her down and said, “Well, we’re done. Good luck!” It had gotten that bad. There were many tearful apologies and promises to be nicer, and we said Great, that all sounds good. Good luck on your project, honey! And that was all fine until last night when it was time to calculate the bacteria growth in her petri dishes and she realized that her “count the blooms” measurement method wasn’t going to work, because the blooms were different sizes and (in some cases) actually stripes or swirls rather than just circles. It was all so tragic that we caved in and helped her figure out how to calculate it by area rather than her original idea, and the whole time I was thinking, “I’m a pushover. No wonder she wheedles and nags and whines, she knows I’ll give in eventually.”
So this morning I have renewed resolve to be Mean, so that such things don’t happen in the future. As such, I informed Licorice that she smells like fish and her mother dresses her funny. I SURE SHOWED HER.
See, I was extremely busy doing exciting things while I was gone. AND I did them all with one hand.
(The other hand was busy shoveling Danielle’s cranberry horseradish relish into my gaping maw. Obviously.) (Wait, what did you think I… oh, nevermind. I don’t want to know.)