My Evening Today

Background info: Stress level at “Code Orange” after a long week (and day) – a story for another day. Let’s fast forward to 5pm this afternoon and bullet point the rest of the day:

  • Play outside with family. Take silly string to the cornea. Twice. Worth it.
  • Tara gets ready to leave for evening. Mom Blog thing.
  • I take boys to get Beckett’s baseball uniform in lieu of cancelled practice. Say to the coach “yeah the weather sures not good as of late.” Wonder to myself why I would say it like that. Slowly back away and leave.
  • Take boys to Arby’s. Order the usual. Uh oh. Can’t get it. The junior roast beef no longer exists. Stunned silence at first then a panic order four sliders and a brisket sandwich instead. Told the drive thru lady we were devastated. Maybe a bit dramatic in retrospect.
  • Back home. Wave to Tara as she passes down street. Hold up Arby’s bag. Prove I will feed kids (probably).
  • I do. We eat the Arby’s.
  • Beckett wants to feed new Venus Fly Trap. I consider roast beef. Internet says no go. I go outside with ziploc bag over hand. Find monster mosquito. Grab it by tail. Try to feed it to fly trap without touching fly trap. Mosquito escapes. I smash it. Back outside. Find another mosquito. Kill it just a little bit (they won’t eat dead bugs says internet). Take fly trap outside. Feed it mosquito with plastic fork. Chomp. Success. Want to vomit.
  • Take boys in basement to play. Doorbell rings. (Never rings.) Door to door salesman. Tell him thanks but no thanks. Takes 5 minutes. Talk about grubs. He leaves.
  • Back downstairs. Hear a fire alarm chirp. 4th time in 3 days. Already changed the batteries in 2 of them this morning at 4am. (They coordinated their attack.)
  • Hear another chirp and voice saying “low battery.” Beckett hates it – thinks its a ghost. Work way from basement to 2nd story pausing for additional chirps along way. Finally find chirping alarm. Same one as 4am – already has new batteries. Change them again.
  • Back downstairs. Doorbell rings. (Reiterating here that it never rings.) Door to door salesman number two. Pest control. (Now realizing I should have said, “do you treat for door to door salesmen” – that would’ve been a real zinger. Always have been slow on the draw.) 10 minutes to get rid of him and somehow he’s stopping by again tomorrow – I think. I don’t know why. Smoke alarms were all alarming while he was squawking. The others know they’re missing one of the operatives from their terror cell – it’s in my hand and it’s not long for this world (the smoke alarm, not the salesman.)
  • Back downstairs
  • Looking at phone to troubleshoot smoke alarm. Flashing green either means it’s faulty or we’re all about to die of CO poisoning. Assume the former and hope one of the other 67 of them we had to install in the house will save us.
  • Continue looking at phone – not seeing anything; literally. My vision suddenly bright and swirly everywhere but the peripherals. Hold phone off to side while looking straight ahead. Not working. Tell Beckett to type in Kidde Interconnected Battery Backup Smoke Alarm. Does admirably well. Home Depot has one. Text Tara – tell her to get it on way home.
  • Vision in and out – mostly out. Boys want nighttime snacks. Back up stairs.
  • Back downstairs with snacks.
  • Bedtime. All the way upstairs. Vision remains marginal.
  • Beckett in bathroom – yells for me that he found a spider. Wonder to myself what sort of black magic the pest control salesman used to make a spider appear in upstairs bathroom (after telling me their treatments would kill spiders). Will ask tomorrow if I get the chance.
  • Vacuum large swaths of the upstairs due to new spider paranoia. Hope to to suck up any other accomplices. Boys run around screaming.
  • Boys to bed.
  • Put feet up. Vision returning – wonder how to get beer without getting up. Wish dog was trained for that. Or there was a robot.
  • Drift off thinking of robot dog that brings beers. Wonder what happened to Sony Aibo.
  • Vision comes back.
  • Write this.
  • Going to get a beer.

I smell bacon…and yellow snow

Tonight after leaving Southridge, Beckett told us he had to pee. We asked him if he could hold it until we got home, about two blocks later he said that he could not. I sped down the street and took a couple quick turns and power slid the Buick into what I thought was the parking lot of some closed business; so he could relieve himself anywhere but in the backseat of the car. The pee hit the snow before his feet hit the ground – right in front of what turned out to be the Greendale Police Department. Beckett was super excited for his first snow pee and exclaimed, “my potty melted the snow just like Rudolph’s red nose!” Then went on to sing Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer – liberally sprinkling the words wiener, potty and pee throughout. Merry Christmas you filthy animals.

(No one was ticketed during this public urination)