Also, the 3-handled family credenza* was ruined
So late last night I got a phone call from someone at FEMA, and he asked if my refrigerator was running, and when I said yes, he told me to go catch it.
Not really. But wouldn’t that have been great?
Actually, he said he was going to be in the area today, and could he come by the house and survey the damage? Why certainly, I replied. You bring your boots and I will supply the swamp! And so the date was set.
Lucky for me, it was pouring again today, and nothing puts that crazed gleam of desperation in my eyes like RAIN THAT WILL NOT END, EVER. When Mr. FEMA showed up with his associate, I licked them both all over and took them down to the basement.
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Belted
[But first, we interrupt this post for a Very Important News Flash: It’s that time again! Go! Read! Write! Win a book!]
I have to say, I’m having a real love/hate relationship with Tae Kwon Do. That in itself is pretty funny, considering that I’m not the one taking classes. And I’m surrounded by friends whose children are doing Little League right now, whose voicemails chirp “I’m not here, probably because we’re out on the field!” Class is twice a week. This shouldn’t be a big deal.
And yet, I had such high hopes when Chickadee really took to the discipline. In the beginning, “Tae Kwon Do” was delicious as it rolled off my tongue. Now I often say “Tae Kwon Do” with an inflection that makes it sound EXACTLY like “Goddamn PAIN” and that seems… bad.
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Post-Floodatic Stress Disorder
This morning, the pump broke. Or, to be specific: It made lots of noise, but it simply refused to suck. I futzed and fuddled with it and took the hoses off and put the hoses back on and consulted my ex. (“It took me a while to get it going, before,” he assured me. “You may need to just put your finger in the holes a bunch.” I pondered this and responded, “This is your professional advice? ‘PUT YOUR FINGERS IN THE HOLES A BUNCH?’ Is that what the directions recommend?”)
I could get it to suck water directly into the intake hole as long as I didn’t attach the hose. (“It says in the instructions not to put the intake hole directly into the water!” “Before or after it says to put your fingers in the hole??”) No matter how I might try to attach the hose (under water, out of the water, full of water, empty of water), as soon as I got it on there, the suction would die.
And so did I, a little bit.
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When five more inches is just too much
Actual voicemail, left for my insurance agent early this afternoon:
Hi, Agent, this is Mir Lastname, at xxx-xxxx. I was just calling to find out what’s happening with that second adjustor… he never called. OH, and to tell you that if he needs to come out, now would be a good time, because thanks to that last storm, my freshly sanitized basement IS UNDERWATER AGAIN. I swear that once I find some dry matches, I’m going to BURN THE HOUSE DOWN. Thought you should know. Hope you’re having a SWELL weekend. Okay. BYE!
Dr. Mama and Mrs. Dork
I’m still chuckling over this post by sweetney at BlogHer, which is about confessing and embracing our dorkitude as bloggers.
The thing is? I was a ginormous dork ‘wayyyyy before I started blogging. And more and more, as I evolve in my role as Actual Mom as opposed to Idealized Mom, I realize that there is just no hope for me. Sure, I can dress up and take out the Mature and Parental Mommy, but there is always another side to me.
Just tonight, for example, I took up the mango seed I’d carefully extracted from the pit of a mango we three enjoyed a few days ago. It had been soaking in water, and I gave a brief horticulture lesson while we planted it.
… and then I sat down with the kids and watched The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie, planning to be bored, and I ended up laughing longer and harder than they did. (David Hasslehoff saves the day! I couldn’t help it! But still! DORK!)
About face
Today actually WAS the day it all started getting better.
*cue the angel chorus*
And I would just like to thank all of the fine folks who made it possible! There’s been so much whining here of late (this is where I peer around with a critical eye, as if I’m trying to target the whiner(s) because it surely was not ME), I just have to share the GLEE. OH, the glee! Due largely to this fine contraption:
THANK YOU, Blurred Out For Purposes of Anonymity Dumpster Providing Service!
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When the head is too heavy for the neck
It came to me in a giant epiphany today that my (recurrent) neck injury is really just a metaphor for my (afflicted) mental state. The neck, you see, is necessary to tote the head around with the rest of the body. And the head, sometimes it just seems a bit much for the fragile neck. And my neck hurts.
It seems to me that this only happens when my head is overfull of all of the sorts of things that make me wonder if THIS time, perhaps, FINALLY I’ve reached the point of no return where people whisper quietly behind my back because you know, quirky is one thing, but at a certain point it probably does become genuine mental illness. Well, that and being in a car accident. Ha. Haha. Why aren’t you laughing?
Don’t worry, I’m laughing enough for all of us.
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My amazing precognitive powers
I know this is going to come as a HUGE SHOCK, but I’m not exactly the most optimistic person in the world. I KNOW! I hide it really well. And you may be dismayed to learn I sometimes don’t have that joy joy joy joy down in my heart, but it’s okay. Do not fret.
Because SOMETIMES, I wake up in the morning JUST KNOWING that today will be a Good Day. I cast aside my usual angst and embrace the morning. It’s a new day; a fresh start; and I am READY.
This morning was one of those days. Today would be the turning point. After a couple of weeks of ongoing suckitude, today would be the day I’d look back on and say, “That’s when it all started getting better.” I could feel it. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Today would go down in history!
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I didn’t want to look around, anyway
You know my obsession with The Food Network, yes? Right now they are doing a show on the secret life of steaks. I was not aware that steaks were 1) sentient and 2) sneaky. (I mean, okay, I know steak comes from cows, which are indeed sentient. But a sneaky cow? Really?) This show is making me hungry.
But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It’s dark out, and I’m on muscle relaxers, so probably it’s nothing. Just a hallucination! Disregard the medicated woman! Wooooooo!
Sorry, what were we talking about? And who are you, again?
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Damage assessed
Funny, it doesn’t actually LOOK like all that much, to me, once I view it in a little picture. It doesn’t LOOK like hours and hours of hauling and dragging and sorting and boxes that fell apart halfway up the stairs.
And as much fun as we had TODAY, we get to do (just about) all of it AGAIN when the dumpster gets here! Yay!
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