The plumber came to visit today; it almost felt like old times. Larry was thrilled when he pointed out that in order to fix the problem with our tub drain, he would have to cut a large hole in the freshly painted living room ceiling. Nothing like paying someone to trash your house...
Larry went jogging today. He exercises on all federal holidays, whether he needs it or not. That's a joke. I thought it was funny. Larry didn't. I told him he could make fun of my Weight Watchers recidivism, just to get even; but he was still mad. So I got mad that he was mad. Things went downhill from there.
Some days, "until death do us part" seems like a really long time.
And would you believe, he still wanted to hang up pictures together today? Is he trying to finish us off, or what? Why doesn't he just call the divorce lawyer and be done with it? I ignored him, so he hung up all that crap where he felt like it. And tomorrow, when he goes to work, I may just take the ugly things down. Because immaturity is my middle name.
Oh, the homeschoolers among you may want to read my essay Winter Doldrums, which appeared in the current issue of Home Education Magazine. Or maybe not.
Showing posts with label plumbing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label plumbing. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Friday, November 09, 2007
I Feel Pretty
Do all parents feel alarmed when they hear water running anywhere in the house? Is it instinct? Or have I been traumatized by too many years of bad plumbing experiences?
Knit Night went well. I took a barely-knitting friend there, because she wanted someone to show her how to put fringe on a scarf. She couldn't figure out why everyone there was so friendly and helpful. At a loss for a better explanation, I told her, "It's because they're knitters." Really, can you picture a mean knitter? Tale of 2 Cities aside, of course.
By the way, "barely-knitting" means a beginner knitter, not one who likes to do her handiwork in the nude. In case you were wondering. Though I'm sure if I googled "nudist knitters," I'd probably find a yahoo group or two devoted to just that. Isn't the Internet great? [I was going to hyperlink to a site, just to show you that I was right; but, after perusing the options, I've changed my mind. This is a family blog, dammit.]
I was in Target today (surprise), trying to find some birthday gifts for my eldest, who turns 16 tomorrow. We are planning to buy him a really nice bicycle (as opposed to a really nice car, say); but, since a birthday isn't fun without a bunch of little packages to unwrap, I wanted to get him a few other things. Unfortunately, even though I have lived with this kid since the second he was born, I couldn't think of anything to get him. Alarm clock? Naah. He'll think I'm nagging him to get up earlier. MP3 player? Too many to pick from. Cell phone? No way - I'm still trying to decide which company to go with. So, after much agonized deliberation, I selected an attractive bag of gummy bears to give to him on his big day. I sure hope that it really is the thought that counts.
"Rachel has 24 dollars," Brian announced today, as Rachel skipped ahead of us in the store, gaily swinging her little purse. "No, she doesn't, Brian," I corrected him. "She had 20 dollars from her birthday, but that's all gone." "I do have 24 dollars," Rachel said. "Brian counted it for me." So I took a look inside her purse and, lo and behold, there was a wad of money in there of various denominations. We don't know where she got it, because she's pretending she can't remember. In fact, I'm sure we'll never know. Does that really surprise anyone who has been following this blog for the past year? I think not. My precious 5-year-old daughter seems to have a predilection for being on the wrong side of the law, and there's not a darn thing I can do about it.
Finally, after procrastinating for months, I betook myself to the hairdresser (all of 5 minutes away) and told her to do something, anything, to make me look good. And she did. And I will continue to look this good until I have to wash my hair - because I can never, ever style it the right way myself. Still, 40 dollars for 48 hours of feeling pretty - that's less than a dollar an hour. Not a bad price for happiness, is it? The best things in life may not be free, but they can be fairly inexpensive.
Knit Night went well. I took a barely-knitting friend there, because she wanted someone to show her how to put fringe on a scarf. She couldn't figure out why everyone there was so friendly and helpful. At a loss for a better explanation, I told her, "It's because they're knitters." Really, can you picture a mean knitter? Tale of 2 Cities aside, of course.
By the way, "barely-knitting" means a beginner knitter, not one who likes to do her handiwork in the nude. In case you were wondering. Though I'm sure if I googled "nudist knitters," I'd probably find a yahoo group or two devoted to just that. Isn't the Internet great? [I was going to hyperlink to a site, just to show you that I was right; but, after perusing the options, I've changed my mind. This is a family blog, dammit.]
I was in Target today (surprise), trying to find some birthday gifts for my eldest, who turns 16 tomorrow. We are planning to buy him a really nice bicycle (as opposed to a really nice car, say); but, since a birthday isn't fun without a bunch of little packages to unwrap, I wanted to get him a few other things. Unfortunately, even though I have lived with this kid since the second he was born, I couldn't think of anything to get him. Alarm clock? Naah. He'll think I'm nagging him to get up earlier. MP3 player? Too many to pick from. Cell phone? No way - I'm still trying to decide which company to go with. So, after much agonized deliberation, I selected an attractive bag of gummy bears to give to him on his big day. I sure hope that it really is the thought that counts.
"Rachel has 24 dollars," Brian announced today, as Rachel skipped ahead of us in the store, gaily swinging her little purse. "No, she doesn't, Brian," I corrected him. "She had 20 dollars from her birthday, but that's all gone." "I do have 24 dollars," Rachel said. "Brian counted it for me." So I took a look inside her purse and, lo and behold, there was a wad of money in there of various denominations. We don't know where she got it, because she's pretending she can't remember. In fact, I'm sure we'll never know. Does that really surprise anyone who has been following this blog for the past year? I think not. My precious 5-year-old daughter seems to have a predilection for being on the wrong side of the law, and there's not a darn thing I can do about it.
Finally, after procrastinating for months, I betook myself to the hairdresser (all of 5 minutes away) and told her to do something, anything, to make me look good. And she did. And I will continue to look this good until I have to wash my hair - because I can never, ever style it the right way myself. Still, 40 dollars for 48 hours of feeling pretty - that's less than a dollar an hour. Not a bad price for happiness, is it? The best things in life may not be free, but they can be fairly inexpensive.
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