The daughter was supposed to come to Florida, with The Man and I, last weekend. Then, in a sad turn of events, her project manager decided that she and her co-workers would have to stay and work on THAT particular weekend of alllll weekends. She was an unhappy camper, but that’s the way it goes in her business.
So last night I got a call. She booked a ticket for her and I to go to Florida in two weeks!! Same town, super nice hotel, for free, with her “points”. (she travels for work, stays in a lot of hotels and earns lots of reward “points”)
The moral of this story is: Spend time with your kids when they’re little. Teach them things. Be nice to them. Treat them like you would want to be treated. And maybe one day THEY’LL TAKE YOU TO FLORIDAAA!! Ahem, I mean, one day they will grow up to be responsible human beings who love their parents, and want to hang out with them every now and then. Yeah, that’s what I meant to say!
I just can’t get back into the swing of things after a week down in Florida. I did unpack a little bit yesterday, and I have freshly brewed coffee in my favorite mug, and all the snow melted, and I got to sleep in my nice, comfy, bed and I’ve got this great, big, lovely, long, run-on sentence. So there’s that. It’ll have to do…it’ll have to do.
There’s a seven foot giant sleeping in my family room.
No, he doesn’t have seven feet. What I’m saying is, he’s really, really, really tall. Like, “I can see the top of your refrigerator” tall. (And yes, I know it’s dirty up there. We’re short, we don’t care) He’s snoring. And I feel guilty, for making noise, while I make my morning coffee.
'The giant' is a friend of 'The Boy' and someone brought them all over here, and then left. (Their cars were all back at his place.) We were going to take them to retrieve their cars later, but it got too late, and they were having so much fun, joking, laughing, watching football. I even caught them watching the Miss America Pageant. (That's when they were laughing the most) They invited me to watch it with them..but then the swimsuit competition ended and they changed the channel. *eye roll*
And… now there’s a giant sleeping on my couch. Just like the old days. Except back then, there were about 12 giants sleeping in my family room. And I still felt guilty, for making noise, while I made my morning coffee.
Despite putting birthdays on my new 2012 calendar yesterday, I didn’t know what day it is today. I now know it’s Monday. (‘Thursday theme’ really throws me off. Also, I forgot to put the end of the world on my calendar. Crap.)
I’ll be eating protein and vegetables for awhile. I need to lose 20 pounds before we go to Florida… on Sunday. Yah, that’s not going to happen. (I’ll be that short little blonde, sucking in her stomach, over in the corner, at the pool.)
I clean our house so you don’t have to. No really, get out. Now.
Why do tv’s always go on sale for the Super Bowl? Like, hey, football! ..Gotta get me a new tv!! No really, I’m getting a new tv. Peer Pressure. (that’s not peer pressure is it?) I think I’ll get one on Wednesday. Now all I have to do is figure out what day is Wednesday and I’m good.
On any day of the week, protein and vegetables do not taste like carrot cake. (you can write that one down)
One of the worst things about “the after Christmas”, is trying to find a place for all the gifts. After that, it’s dealing with the boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. Most people burn them, or recycle, or simply throw them in the trash. Us? No. We keep them. I mean, you have to keep them in case something goes wrong with the new device that came in it, right? You can’t return that tv in a trash bag, can you?? And what if something goes wrong with that new computer?? So now, I guess the secret’s out. That shameful, shameful, secret… We’re box keepers.
I don’t know how this tradition started, but, I think it can be attributed to ‘The Man’s’ side of the family. I mean, I don’t remember seeing any empty boxes laying around at my mom’s house. There’s no way I’m taking the blame for this one. I’ll be the one denying it, all the way to aftercare, on the next Hoarders. REALLY, IT’S NOT MY FAULT!!! I HATE BOXES. (Oh, but this one’s kinda cute…)
Tonight I learned how to skype on my iPhone, and how to turn up the sound, and how to use the back camera, and while I was doing all this, I took my sister on a whirlwind tour of my house, because why not? I mean, who doesn’t want to see the inside of the toilet, or what I have crammed in my fridge, and how #3 son is grooming his room for the next season of Hoarders.