The Way Things Are






Another one where I say FIRST.
2006-07-03, 2:02 p.m.

FIRST. Do you want to see the list of chores my kid accomplished before noon today? Thatís one of the caveats of us letting him stay home alone during the day. He can sleep as late as he wants, eat junk food all day, play videogames and ride his scooter and whatnot, but he has a list of chores to do, too. Usually, heíll get one or two of his chores done, and blow off the rest. Not so today, my friends.

1. Refill dogsí water bucket. (Please note that I always use correct punctuation in notes to my child. You never know when your correct punctuation will make a positive impact on an impressionable slacker child)

2. Put away clean clothes. (His clean clothes. Like weeks and weeks worth, stacked on his dresser)

3. Vacuum upstairs. (Removing any remaining evidence of Mrs. Beansí defensive attack on the red pillow)

4. Empty dishwasher and put clean dishes away. (I specify putting the clean dishes away, because in my house, various smartasses might decided just to stack the clean dishes on the counter)

5. Put dirty dishes in dishwasher. (These were all his anyway, the remnants of a flurry of instant pudding making late last night)

And he finished! Iím really proud of him. His instructions for the rest of the day consist of starting his summer reading, interspersed with knocking around aimlessly. Heís starting with Hound of the Baskervilles, which I just did my reconnaissance reading on, and I have to say, I did enjoy it. Pip pip. Say, Holmes and Watson ARE gay, arenít they?


There is no SECOND.


Hereís a couple of fun conversations Iíve had in the past 12 hours or so. The first one is with DW. Please join me as we recount a bit of pillow talk from last night.

Him: Ugh. This is going to be a night where Iím so tired, I canít sleep.

Me: Ibuprofen?

Him: Already did it.

Me: Sex?

Him: Sex would work.


Me: I talk to loads of women (and exaggerate) everyday, and we all have the same complaint about our husbands. That they are terrified to make the first move because of some imaginary rejection they suffered, and they figure itís foreplay enough to say ďIím always ready for sex,Ē and every woman I talk to says how fun and exciting and awesome it would be for their husband to just jump their bones because he canít keep his hands off his wife.

::crickets:: (literally Ė crickets. We live in the country)

Him: Itís not so much the threat of rejection Ė itís more that youíre grumpy. Especially when youíre tired. Actually, youíre kind of mean. REALLY mean.

Me: Iím not mean, IíM FUNNY. People love how I mix mean and funny together. Everybody loves that.

Him: Yeah, youíre funny, but everyone is scared to death of you. Youíre mean as hell.


Me: I just offered ďSex?Ē and then went on about how I would almost die to have my husband make the first move and jump my bones, and yet YOU STILL LIE THERE NOT DOING ANYTHING.

Him, finally gets it: *whips off pants*


Hereís a conversation I had with my brother this morning. It was made all the more surreal because we were both on our cell phones, and reception kind of faded in and out. That makes it more fun, because you donít know whether youíve missed something in the conversation, or if it really did careen wildly from one topic to the next of its own accord.

Me: So weíll leave San Antonio about 6, and get to Sugar Land around 9:30 or 10:00 Friday night.

Andy: Weíll leave the key under the doormat for you.

Me: Iíve seen you people party into the wee hours, so I know youíll be up. Your children stay up later than I do.

Andy: Weíll have burgers and such going on the grill. You can eat whenever you get here. Have you ever had a hamburger with a fried egg on top?

Me: No, are we having that Friday night?

Andy: No. I just wondered.

Me: It sounds like the Whataburger Breakfast on a Bun, but they use sausage, not a hamburger. But it IS on a hamburger bun.

Andy: Do they use a fried egg?

Me: No, itís one of those scrambled egg patties.

Andy: So what youíre saying is, itís nothing like a hamburger with a fried egg on top?

Me: Could you make me a hamburger with a fried egg on top for breakfast Saturday morning? Break the yolk.

Andy: I think Jill has a standard platter of scrambled eggs and bacon planned.

Me: Screw that Ė letís fix something that nobody will want to eat. Hamburgers with fried eggs on top.

Andy: Hooo hooo hooo hooo hooo!

Thatís my brotherís very distinctive laugh. Itís like itís so funny, he canít even get his mouth open in time to laugh properly. Hooo hooo hooo hooo hooo!

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