Thanksgiving

It was a lovely holiday.

We went to Josh's Aunt Lisa's house and ate all sorts of good food.

I made a pie for the first time in my life.

We came home and put up Christmas. (Well, most of Christmas...because now it's a 3 days process...thanks Bubbah.)

We shopped. Cami & I went to Walmart at midnight. In case you were wondering if that was a good idea, the answer is no. I've never seen so many crazy people in my life. There was blood. I'm pretty sure that we're on youtube somewhere. It was pure madness.

And since we didn't cook the turkey and we don't live with the people who cooked the turkey our thanksgiving leftovers are 1/2 of my blueberry pie. And you'd better believe I didn't cook today. So....yeah. Blueberry Pie for dinner. (It was delicious.)

The phone

If there was an invention I could surely do without, it would be the phone. I hate it. Always. Hate. It.

That's why I never answer. It's not you. It's me.--- No that's not true either. It's not me. It's the phone.

I hate not knowing what's coming, is it a 2 hour conversation or a 2 minute message?
Is it someone I love or someone I do business with?
Is it good news or bad? It seems that the bad news has only ever come from Josh... (i.e. "my boss just told me that me working there isn't going to work out" or "Meleta just called and said Ron died." or "Tommy just puked his guts out on the only nice blanket we own.....is it waterproof?") maybe I should change my policy from "always answer when Josh calls" to "never answer when Josh calls".
Can they tell I just made that face when I said that thing? Would it be good if they could tell?
Why don't they respond when I nod at all the appropriate times or shrug?
Should I be sitting down or start the dishes now? And just how loud is too loud for a phone call? Clearly vacuuming is out of the question, but what about something slightly more reverent like....watching Friends re-runs?
You'd think someone who talks so much and has had 6 different "answer the phone" jobs wouldn't be such a phone-phobic but I am.

Unfortunately sometimes for work I have to call people.

And sometimes for church I have to call people (usually a lot of people in a very short time).

And so my day so far has looked like this:

So when I had the opportunity to take something to a neighbor, I jumped all over it, dropped by her house unannounced and wasted at least 20 minutes of her life talking at her in her doorway because it just felt so nice to respond to her face and for her to respond to mine. Plus it's always nice to talk to Linda (hi Linda!) because she's flat out nice.

So, if your doorbell rings, answer it anyway. It's probably just me avoiding the phone. Unless of course you hate the door. In that case, I understand.

I know I'm not the only one....

I know I'm not the only one.......but this schedule just seems so incredibly unreasonable that I catch myself feeling like we are the only ones.

I remember thinking the same thing when Tommy was brand new and nobody in this house was sleeping. I'd get up in the middle of the night with him knowing that I was the only human being on the whole planet awake at that time.
And then I'd hear a car drive past. Who drives anywhere at 3am?
Or see someone else update their facebook status.
And then I'd see people around the neighborhood who have older children and I'd know that they did the same thing when their kids were newborns and I just couldn't understand how something so seemingly impossible was so common.

Only now we get up at 5:30 to start our days and I see other people pulling out of their garages already. And more than 1 light is on in the neighborhood. I KNOW there are other people who wake up earlier than us, but it just seems so impossibly unreasonable that it CAN'T be common.

Josh comes home, eats dinner with us and studies for the rest of the night and I think it's insane to imagine all of these people who come home and do more work/school/life once they're finished with whatever work/school/life they just came home from.

But then I have this image in my head of my older brother sitting at a desk in the basement of his little old house in Logan. It was dark, and the home was old so it had really low ceilings. He had a lamp on and his glasses (he normally wears contacts) and he had probably been sitting there pouring over his textbooks for more hours than I had even been alive. I bet his eyes were bleeding from having read so much.
I know we're not the only ones who have this stupid "study your brains out every day" schedule. And I know other people have lived through it. And I know a LOT of people who have degrees and clearly they're still alive.

I just start thinking that we have zero free time and I'll never see Josh again and "gee isn't it nice of that strange man to pay the mortgage for 2 humans he will barely know in a year?" when he stops what he's doing to read scriptures and have Family Home Evening with us.

So I know we're not the only ones doing work, school, church and family. But some things just seem so stupid that you convince yourself you're the only one dumb enough to sign up for it all.

I guess it's nice to know we're not alone and that people do survive the madness.

ksl classified

I'm thinking about buying something on ksl.

But then I thought "what if it's broken?"

Then I thought "if they say they're selling it cuz it's broken I won't buy it. but if they're selling it because they just don't need it anymore, then it's fine."

Then I patted myself on the back for being such a genius.

Then AND ONLY THEN I realized that nobody is stupid enough to say "I'm selling this cuz it's broken" It's always because "they're moving" or "doesn't go with the decor" or "they're done having babies" never EVER "because it's broken".

Then I patted myself on the back again....you know, cuz I'm a genius.

I worry

Wanna know what kinds of things this crazy mom worries about?

An upcoming trip to the dentist. Josh will be working so I'll take Thomas with me. What if he doesn't sleep through it? What if he wakes up and starts to be fussy? What if he cries while my mouth is full of fingers? What if I bite the fingers off and jump up from the chair and dash to my child's carrier to rescue him? Will they charge me for their hospital bills? What if he cries and I don't have the guts to bite the fingers and instead I try to talk and it comes out like everything I say with a mouthful of fingers "ah ay ae ih cah eeh" (my baby is crying)? And what if because I'm such a gutless pansy I don't get to rescue him? What if either of those embarrassing things happens and Lisa (the lady who works on my teeth, and also my Aunt) tells the whole family and we are the joke at every household dinner for eternity?

Talking about the upcoming blessing with Josh (back when it was "upcoming" instead of "recent") I asked him all the details of how the circle works. How do you hold the baby? Do you just have to hold him straight out with both hands - you'll use both hands right? I mean you're not just gonna try to palm him and count on the other guys to support the rest of him, right? They don't make you put your hand on someone else's shoulder do they? Promise me you'll use both hands! (He didn't promise. Rude.) Well when you hold something straight out like that your arms are going to get tired - what if you JUST started, but your arms are too tired to hold him, do you just quit? "The name you'll be known by....will be Thomas -" ugh. You're heavy, I'm putting you down. What if my baby never got the rest of his name because he's so heavy and too hard to hold straight out like that? Josh wasn't worried at all about either of those things. Weird huh?

I'd like to think the baby brings out the psycho-worrier in me, but probably I've always been this crazy and now I just have something small that brings new topics to worry about.

Why my bananas smell like wet wipes

When Dr. Lady's temporary replacement (Dr. New Girl) came in to check Thomas's everything, the first words out of her mouth were "do you have any questions for me?"

We did.

Are his leg cracks OK? They look owie.
Why does he wheeze? Does he have asthma already?
Can you make the nose-puking stop? Please?
and most importantly: When is it safe to go back to church and out in public?

In short, his leg cracks are fine, he's wheezing because his throat is coated with milk and the nose-puking is something we'll have to work on.

As for church (and public), it MIGHT be safe to go to church by March or April. Of course you'll go back before then, but it's flu season and you risk disease and death.

Then she started volunteering information about just how paranoid we should be about quarantining our baby.

In short, VERY paranoid is best. No Christmas parties. No being Mormon. No kids. No touching. No breathing. Yes wet wipes. Yes hand sanitizer. Yes soap and water. No diseases.

So we left the Dr.'s office and showed him off at my office and went to Walmart. Downtown. That was stupid. 

In my defense, we needed things, and we were already halfway there. And Dr. New Girl said "don't let people touch him, that's the real concern." And we left him totally covered with a blanket in his carseat the entire time. And we didn't even touch him until we got home and washed our hands. And I just didn't want him to run out of diapers. (Did you know diapers cost like $20 for 1 package? For something he POOPS on. Literally!) And I figured that since we weren't going to stay in our house until April anyway, we may as well get out today.

While at Walmart we bought some bananas. Because they looked tasty. To Josh, not me. The triple-chocolate-fudge cake on my counter looks tasty to me. 

And when we were checking out, the world's slowest disgustingest checkout lady sneezed. Right into her hands. Then she picked up my bananas AND my bottle of Simply Orange juice and put them in a bag.

It was like the gross slow motion part of a movie. I could see all the germs running around the store SWARMING my bananas. The plastic grocery sack suddenly became a hotel for every green goblin within 50 miles. The lice jumped off the head of the guy behind us to join his creepy crawly friends in the party zone.

I gagged.

Josh paid.

The lady sanitized her hands while telling Josh - "sorry, I have to sanitize my hands because I just sneezed and I don't want to spread anything."

I somehow refrained from jumping over the bagging station and strangling her right then and there while shouting about my contaminated groceries and asking why she was the dumbest person on the planet. "YOU TOUCHED MY FOOD BETWEEN SNEEZING AND SANITIZING YOU FOOL!!! Are you stupid? Do you know nothing? Did you flunk out of kindergarten when they taught you to WASH YOUR HANDS? Are you the idiot they put up signs for in the bathrooms of restaurants reminding employees to NOT spread their bathroom germs on other people's food? WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL MY BABY?!?!?!?!"

We were only 2 steps away when Josh and I looked at each other and shuddered.

That's why we can't leave the house until April.

And that's why my bananas smell like wet wipes.

Grouchy

It all started last night. And I'll try to tell you it's all Josh's fault. Because he's a lazy, good-for-nothing, sit-around-watching-stupid-tv, leaving-dishes-on-the-floor, not-catering-to-my-every-whim, make-me-do-the-laundry-by-myself, selfish, mean, out-to-get-me, spaghettios-can-leaving-outing, dirty-dish-creating, inconsiderate MAN.

But don't believe me. Sometimes I lie.

The truth is, I'm being unreasonable and I am completely aware of that. I actually slammed the door last night. I hate door slamming. But for some reason I still insist on being grouchy and tired and grouchy and worn down and grouchy and impatient and grouchy and rude and grouchy and mad and grouchy and hurt and grouchy and mean and intolerant and impatient and grouchy a couple more times today. 

Only I'm not smiling this much and my hair is brown. Not green. And my unibrow is less......bushy. I hope. Heaven help me if it isn't.

In my defense: What's a girl supposed to do when her husband makes her wash ALL the dishes, fold the laundry AND finds Animal Planet more interesting than her?

Things I can't reach anymore....

Remember all the great things I used to be able to reach?

Now I can't reach anything. Ever.

My toes.

The radio controls.

The window button in the car.

The top shelf in the kitchen.

The buttons on my phone.

I don't stretch, I don't balance, I don't tip toe. I don't reach, squeeze, bend or crawl. For heaven sakes I can't even reach around my own belly to open the drawer the remotes are in.

I still haven't stopped turning sideways to fit in narrow spaces not an effective technique. Will I ever retrain myself?

Every time I bend down to reach for something I picture my 80-year-old-self (who, by the way, is totally cool) laughing and being tempted to just give me a little nudge to watch my 20-something-year-old-self fall over.

Then I find myself wondering...is this what old people feel like all the time? Is this why they're grouchy? When they bend and reach for things, do they groan because it hurts so bad? I'd like to ask my 80-year-old-self a lot of questions, but she's too busy laughing at me to be interviewed.

Belly Shot - Take 2

This is 27 weeks. 

Yeah, that's right, 27. 

As is "40 minus 27 equals 13".

Yesterday was the 20th. 

As in "T minus 3 months". 

Officially.

Are you sensing the panic in my voice fingers? (...whatever.)

Can you tell how many things I haven't done?

Are you laughing because you've been waiting for this moment?

Do you think it's funny that I have made zero life decisions about what to do post-baby?

Are you picturing the hilarious blog posts about how I can't handle it?

Are you laughing because you know I have a plant in my living room containing like 10 gallons of dirt....just sitting on my floor looking lovely waiting to prove how baby-unwise I really am?

Can you tell I haven't cleaned the cracks and crevices of my home that I really need to clean?

Do you realize you haven't seen any pictures of the beautiful nursery my child will call home? And did you realize that you haven't seen pictures because it doesn't exist now and probably never will?

Did you remember that Josh still has the "no buying anything big (bigger than a breadbox) in case we move" edict in effect?

On a slightly less hysteric note: I'm slightly prettier than last time, right? Other than the fact that I only have lip gloss on my lower left lip, and my eyes are screaming "I kill you!" I think it's a pretty great picture. Even if I don't get to show off how cute my shower curtain is....

Anxiety

It's that time of the month. No. Not that time of them month. The time of the month when I know I'm teaching Relief Society tomorrow.

It's not like I've ever given a horrible lesson that resulted in anybody leaving the church (I hope...) or me getting excommunicated or anything. And mostly people give the lesson for me because my ward is really great like that. But none of that matters. I'm still nervous and uncomfortable.

The worst part? This feeling won't go away until I'm too distracted tomorrow afternoon to think of all the things I couldda shouldda wouldda said. Instead this feeling will get stronger and my body will only get shakier.

I read the lesson a few weeks ago. It's great. It's about temples.

I've been thinking about the lesson (and temples) for 3+ weeks.

But this week the panic has slowly been setting in. Sunday I listened to Elise teach her lesson and loved it (of course, I always do). That's when the anxiety started to descend and settle.

It starts with the comparison of me and Elise. I won't bore you with the details, but she's beautiful, and eloquent, and spiritually advanced. I'm me.

The next phase is realizing that I can't just stand there and read the lesson out of the book because that's boring. Which leads to me speaking. Outloud. In public. To public who will see me again. Soon.

Then I realize that I'm going to have to come up with something to say while I stand there in front of the class looking like....well, me.

At this point my heart starts to beat harder and my palms start to sweat and I picture everybody in my ward with vampire fangs, devil horns, and fire behind their pitchfork-holding perfect little bodies. I just know they're all waiting for me to say something stupid so they can attack me. They're waiting for me to trip over my own (trembling) feet. They're waiting for me to walk up to the front of the class with my skirt tucked into my underwear.

Starting this morning, my mind will not rest until I know I have 40 minutes of worthwhile things to say even though I've never said more than 10 minutes worth of anything....

My brain won't stop reviewing all of the embarrassing things I could tell the whole ward about me and Josh. That's a long list and it comes to me all day long.

It's Egbert's Law. Hand me a microphone and I will embarrass myself.

So, one Saturday of every month is spent locked up in my room, reading, researching and trying to write. Taking deep breathes and heavy sighs. Trying to come up with something, ANYTHING that will make this lesson worthwhile.

Tomorrow it only gets worse. I can usually sit through Sacrament Meeting OK, but Sunday School triggers the shaking, trembling, sweating, and nervous laughter. I can't carry on a normal conversation, or sit still, and by the time we're through the announcements at the beginning of Relief Society it's a good thing I have to stand at the front because if I sit in that chair one second longer, I know I will give a very educational display of spontaneous combustion.

So, farewell sane, unanxious world. Farewell to the non-crazies. I'll see you again tomorrow, but for now I join the land of the slightly psychotic and very nervous public speakers.

My house is scary at 3am

I fell asleep ridiculously early last night. Really. Really really early.

I ordered pizza so it would meet us just as we got home from work. I was starving, and it was a good choice for dinner. So, dinner was eaten and cleaned up by like 6:00.

I got comfy on the love sac by the open window and curled up to finish watching Bolt (cute movie by the way) and pretty much immediately fell asleep. I'm guessing I was out by 6:30.

I woke up for the last 5 minutes of the movie (which is how I know it was cute, I always judge a movie by it's ending anyway.) and again after the 934th time the menu played it's little 5 second soundtrack.

I looked out the window and thought about what a beautiful night it was, the cool air coming in through the window smelled good (really! even out here!) and I considered that we should probably go for a walk instead of wasting this beautiful day.

Then I rolled over and fell back asleep.

That's why I know my house is scary at 3am.

By nature I'm a sleeper inner and I like it.  But when I've already been asleep for 9 hours, and all the windows in the house are open, and my neighbors (not the great ones) are having some mondo fight (which apparently requires the F word about a thousand times) in their driveway "Well #$*&# I'll just leave you #$^@ here then! #$&^#% that!" I'm bound to wake up.

Once they revved their engine and tore off into the night, I started hearing every other sound my house makes at 3am.

The wind blows my curtains, which bump against the papers on my hope chest and it sounds like someone is RIGHT THERE. The stairs creak when nobody is on them. Josh snores - but only once every 28 breaths (yes, I counted) and it sounds like someone is suffocating him. Birds chirp, but not in the "birds chirping, sun shining" kind of way, more in the "I'm creepy and I will kill you" kind of way. Cars drive on Legacy going 2 miles an hour, which clearly means they're stalking someone. And our other neighbors (the incredibly nice ones) open their garage door. OK probably because she's a nurse and nurses work weird hours and she was probably just leaving for the day...but still! It's creepy!

Let's just say it was a good thing I'm too chicken to get out of bed (remember, there's a guy standing RIGHT THERE rustling papers!) and call the police about all the people who are trying to kill me in the middle of the night.

This morning things look a lot better. Birds chirping, sun thinking about shining. Cool breeze blowing the curtains and softly floating back down. Things really do always look better in the morning.

I’m a bit of a control freak.

It’s true. At least I know it. And I acknowledge it. That’s because I’m a control freak who also happens to be aware of her surroundings and always (sometimes) tells the truth.

How do I know I’m a control freak? Well, it’s not rocket science, but for those of you who are "not rocket science" impaired, I present the following evidence:

Exhibit A: Thanksgiving. We ate at a restaurant. I freaked because I wasn’t the boss of what was available, or how it was presented. I didn’t get to tell anyone which side the forks go on, or what order the food should appear in the buffet line. Even though I’ve never ever been in charge of Thanksgiving, it still bugged me. Partly because the turkey came AFTER the gravy and that’s annoying. Also because they put the dessert food right inside the front doors and that means you have to fight the groups of people coming into the restaurant to get to dessert. Also annoying.

Exhibit B: I hate family Christmas parties. Not because I don’t love my family and want to be with them. Not because I hate Christmas. Not because I hate white elephants. Not because I hate pretending the church gym is a cozy living room. And certainly not because I hate the food. I’m fine with all of that. I hate them because they mean I am not the boss of my own schedule for the next 34 days. I don’t get to come home on a Friday night and choose what we’re doing for the weekend. It’s already planned. And it has pretty much been planned since last year at this time. I want to decide what I feel like doing that weekend and do it. But, for this long wretched one month out of the year, I don’t get to. That’s annoying.

Exhibit C: I put things on other people’s to-do lists. Without permission. I don’t really blame me for this one. Outlook allows me to do it, and that means it’s OK. However, I do accept full responsibility for the fact that I flag pretty much anything I can. E-mails, tasks, and Calendar items. I want to pop up on the computer screens of other people because I think it gives me power. I think it means I’m the boss of what they are doing with their time. “Work on that thing for me please” I’m saying, with a not-so-gentle reminder popping up in the form of a red flag blocking everything else on their computer screen. “I won’t go away until it’s finished.” I say after the first time they try to “close” me. “No really. If you don’t finish, I’ll stay right here for. Ev. er.” Also I hate it when other people flag stuff to me. It’s my to-do list. Who do you think you are? That’s annoying.

Exhibit D: I am a backseat driver. Sorry Josh. I’m working on it.

Exhibit E: This weekend Cami and Braden slept over at our house. On Sunday morning Josh came into the bathroom to get a towel for Braden to use when he showered. He got out an ugly towel. Josh and I own 10 towels for regular use. Plus some decorative towels that are not to be used, they just hang there making me feel like my bathroom matches. We also have ugly towels. These are for camping, hair dying, and “oh-my-gosh I just knocked over my 32 ounce glass of water on the carpet” moments (not to be confused with “oh-my-gosh I just spilled lemonade on the kitchen floor” or “I just mopped the floor but need to walk on it right away” moments).

Apparently when Josh put the towels in the dryer they didn’t get all the way dry, so he just grabbed one of our other ugly towels for Braden to use. That bugs me because I didn’t want Braden to use an ugly towel. He is a 13 year old boy and truly couldn’t care less, but it bugged me. It bugged me that Josh was fine with using one too when I reached in the closet for a clean towel and found that they were all in the laundry basket. I waited to shower until the towels were clean, Josh used an ugly towel. That’s annoying.

The fact that it’s annoying when other people do things their way proves that I’m a control freak. I like the way I do things (duh, that’s why I do them that way…) and I don’t really feel like changing, so I probably won’t. But I just wanted to publicly acknowledge that I am a control freak, and for the most part I’m OK with that.

*Optional Evidence: I can't stand automatic things in restrooms. I hate the toilet flushing thing not flushing when I want it to (too early is worse than too late, but I hate both). And I really hate the water sensor things. Too much water comes out and it splashes everywhere. You don't get to pick your own temperature. And the thing never comes on quickly when you're in a hurry. I bet you can guess how I feel about that. Annoyed.

Dear red-haired security man

Dear red-haired security man,

Today you scared me. I just wanted you to know.

You normally sit at your security desk looking nice and formal and intimidating. Like a security guard should look.  Your arms are folded and your eyes are on the computer screen, glancing up every once in a while to see the people walking past you. I like you there. You make me feel safe.

Today you were out of place (in my office instead of behind your desk) shouting about cookies and laughing with other people who clearly know you - but I don’t. When you asked why we were holding out on the Security team, I didn’t realize you were talking about the cookies. That’s why I stammered and blushed. I was embarrassed I didn’t realize you were joking.

When you shouted to my boss that I was in trouble for not sharing the wealth, I felt a little more stupid and I hate feeling stupid. Especially since I didn’t know it was part of my job to inform the security guys when we have cookies. In fact I didn’t even know there were security guys anywhere but behind their desks.

It’s not just because you have red hair that I think you’re going to fly off the handle. The earpiece and black suit make me think that you’ve been trained to kill a man with your bear hands (sorry, Bond is on the mind) and are ready to attack should anything look wrong to you.

So, for future reference, I always have candy in my top drawer, so consider yourself informed. Please don’t tell on me for holding out on you anymore. Please don’t talk so loud. Please don’t joke with people who don’t know you’re joking (especially innocent helpless receptionists who haven’t ever spoken to you before). Please remember that when you look like, act like and are a security guard, people think certain things about you. It’s not judging, it’s just observing. Please just take a handful of cookies and eat them quietly at your desk with your eyes on the computer screen. If you’d like, I’ll even deliver them to you.

Just please don’t hurt me.

From,

Amy

Tag - 8 things

Sometimes I like being tagged. Tonight I like it.


eight things on my wish list

1. A baby.
2. Josh to get the ROS position in Wyoming. Yeah, we might be moving to Wyoming depending on Josh getting a job. Today I want it. If he gets it, I wouldn't have to work, which is good. See #1.
3. A jetted tub.
   
4. A computer that isn't a laptop. I don't trust my laptop, probably because most days it sounds like it's going to take off like an airplane.
5. Josh's student loans to be paid off. 
6. A whole new wardrobe. I watch WAY too much What Not To Wear and I really want to throw away all of my ugly cheap ill-fitting clothes and make 2 professional shoppers  dress me properly.  Shallow? Yes. True? Yes.
7. Commandments not a few. Thank you Elder Bednar for that tidbit this weekend.
8. The ice dispenser in my freezer to work. 

eight tv shows I like to watch

1. The Office. I seriously could die laughing.
   
2. Friends. Old habits die hard.
3. What Not To Wear
4. The news minus the weather. I hate watching the weather. It bugs me.
5. Bones. 
6. House.
7. Dr. Phil. Makes me feel a little less crazy.
8. Country music videos. They help me fall asleep in the middle of the night....

eight things that happened yesterday

1. I went to work.
2. Josh scrubbed my bathroom faucets because he loves me.
3. We went to bed at like 8:30
4. Josh came to eat lunch with me at work.
5. Full-blown FHE. Some weeks we're really good like that.
6. Some poor lady called about a mouse running around all over her cubicle and I told Aundrea I was "a-scared-a mices".
7. I drove my own car to work for the first time in more than a week.
8. I begged (again) Josh to let us put up the Christmas tree. He didn't. Someday I'm gonna sneak home from work early and do it myself, only it's REALLY high up and heavy....so I kinda need him.

eight things you can't live without "not literally live without, it's just an expression"

1. My husband. Actually this one is quite literal. When he leaves I am a horrible person and I hardly live at all. I'm so glad he finally moved in with me (when we got married) so I could live happily. Also, I hate standing on the counters to reach high things (especially overweight Christmas trees).
2. The Gospel. What do people who don't know these truths do? How do they cope? It's hard enough when you do know!
3. Books. I always need to have something to read.
4. My computer. When we go somewhere internet-less, I feel lost.
5. Really good, heavy, cuddly blankets.
6. Snowstorms. 
7. Bobby pins. I hate it when my hair touches me.
8. Clear nail polish. Nylons every day gets REALLY expensive if you replace EVERY pair with a tiny hole in the toe.

eight things you wouldn't miss if they were gone

1. Leg hair. Too bad laser is soo expensive.
2. Apparently chocolate - Katy and I have been sugar fasting for a couple of weeks now and it turns out that it doesn't really bother me to go without chocolate. Who knew?
3. Recorded phone message from "West Valley Suzuki. Our records indicate that you have not been in to service your vehicle in at least days. Feel free to visit our showroom M-F.........." Yeah. I'm too cheap to pay a dealership to change the oil in my car so I go somewhere cheaper, but I'll definitely just come buy a whole new car since I'm a few days late on my oil change.  Good thing you called so I'll come there instead of Ken Garff to do so.
4. All this extra weight I carry around.
5. Miracle Grow. I don't need the guilt trip from still not being able to grow my lily, even with the help of a miracle.
6. Politics. 'Nuff said.
7. That annoying lady in the RC Willey commercials. She bugs me.
8. Chalkboards. Chalk. All things associated with both. It gives me chills and makes my spine shudder.
   

people I tag

Cathy
Chelsea
Jamie
Jenni
Jessica
Julie
Katie
Laura
Stick

LOSING IT!

I am losing my mind. Really. Really really. I’m sitting in an office, out in the hallway (which is cinderblock and hard floors a man is painting. It sound as if he’s shaking a spray paint can the size of my chair. Instead of that cute little tapping sound that comes from a spray paint can, it’s an enormous rattling.

He’s been doing it for an hour.

I’m trying to train my Christmas station on Pandora, but I can’t hear the songs to give them a ‘thumbs up’ or ‘thumbs down’. I think I just accidentally ‘thumbs upped’ that “Happy Christmas War is Over” song that I can’t stand, that is truly tragic. My entire Holiday Season could be ruined by this error and it’s all Paint Guy’s fault.

He won’t stop.

I can’t hear the phone ring.

He’s still going.

I can hear the echo of the rattling in my brain. It rattles around in my skull.

Rattle rattle rattle.

He’s slowing down, now, his arm must be getting tired.

Maybe if I’m lucky it will fall off.

They are doing flu shots, so maybe he’ll get a flu shot and his arm will hurt so bad he can’t shake it anymore.

Rattle rattle…….rattlerattlerattle…..rattle..rattle……..rattle…rattle he’s not even consistent. I’m losing it!!!