Continuing in the fine tradition of tackling only the life issues which require very little thought and probably don't need to be addressed right now, today I turned to my favorite activity to undertake every 730 days: Picking a new cell phone. Today was even more fun, because Otto and I had such good luck coming to agreement on wedding ring selection, we decided to figure out our phones together. Thankfully there is no societal edict that our phones coordinate, so it was a slightly lower-pressure situation, at least. Also, if our new phones suck? We can get new ones in another two years...
Good news! Through a mixture of planning, assisting, and bribery, I was able to get the kids to clean up the damn playroom already. I know you were all really concerned about it. I discovered that with three of us and about an hour, and a liberal application of "Well, I suppose you COULD keep that, but I wonder if Santa will think you have room for anything else...," almost anything is possible. If by "almost anything" you mean "enough cleaning happens that the carpet is revealed and can be vacuumed." At one point during a tense "you're really too old for this toy now" negotiation, Monkey...
First of all, Otto and I had already picked the category winners from yesterday's post well before midnight. Because we're wild like that. And because Otto had to get to bed because he needs to be up early. (I also have to be up early, but I have given up sleeping for Advent.) (What, you think that's weird? Sometimes I give up guilt for Lent. But then I feel bad about it.) Next, I believe one of the signs of the Apocalypse has come to pass, and it's my civic duty to alert you to our collective impending doom. Today I went out to a store, walked in, and bought an item that cost more than $10...
You know, I am positively kicking myself for not grabbing the Post-It on which the dipstick was scribbled. I should've said, "Can I take that with me? You know, to refer to it later?" A golden opportunity, missed. I hang my head in shame. I also wish I'd brought all of you with me, as you were much more out for blood than I was. You could've made them cry, I think. My stance was more or less one of confused incredulity, where everything they said to me just pushed me further into wondering if there were hidden cameras around, or perhaps I'd stumbled into an episode of The Twilight Zone....
I had this completely insane but good and productive day, but right now I need to sleep more than I need to write. I just have to tell you this one thing. When I went to the oil change place today to explain to them about my transmission fluid being low and my oil gasket having run off and why that meant that they should pay for the repairs I had to have done at the dealership, the assistant manager (while we waited for the manager) tried to explain to me how they check the fluid. He drew me a picture of a dipstick. A picture. Of a dipstick. In case I didn't understand. See? It took...
So, a funny thing was happening with my car. Being the sort of person who is right on top of my car's performance and maintenance, I'd barely noticed. But when Otto was here, I started the car up one morning and it stalled. "That's not right," he said. "You need to get that looked at." "Really?" I countered. "No, see, it's okay! Because if I restart it, it's perfectly fine!" And then I backed down the driveway, threw the car into Drive, and ignored it when the transmission slipped and the engine revved and the car didn't move for a second. "ACK!" said Otto. "TAKE. YOUR. CAR. TO. THE....
Most of the mundane chores of life are fairly self-perpetuating. If I don't do laundry, we don't have clean clothes to wear. If I don't cook, there's nothing to eat. If I don't occasionally throw the kids into the shower, one assumes that CPS would eventually show up on my doorstep. Things like that. If I don't change the oil in my car, well, the car continues to run. And perhaps Otto lectures me about how my driving habits mean I really need to be vigilant about changing the oil regularly, and then I change the subject. (Or maybe I say "Well, clearly YOU will be in charge of car...
So, artichokes were on sale at the supermarket this week. And I haven't had an artichoke in FOREVER. Three came home with me, nestled in-between my standard grocery fare of apples and pears and chicken breast and milk. Artichokes are good for all sorts of things, you know. Especially if you have kids. They don't really LOOK edible so much as they look like little round pissed-off armadillos. And then there's the inevitable conversation: "What do they taste like?" "They taste like artichokes." I tried to come up with something to compare it to, and failed. It tastes like an artichoke....
