As I'm sure you're aware, Valentine's Day is this weekend. We've got a babysitter set up so now Jared and I are trying to decide what to do. And I've got to say, most of the options we've considered have been PRETTY LAME.
We started out with some mighty grand plans. We could make dinner in. We could go out to eat. We could catch a movie. We could do both!
And then we started to get a little more realistic about what we want. We could get a redbox movie and watch it - without the baby! OR WAIT! We could stay at home and take a nap - without the baby!
Yeah. Those are honestly the two most appealing options. But, on principle alone, we must go out. I'm forcing us.
Today was spent contemplating how we will get out of our apartment. We're snowed in. We even got all ready to go and buckled into the car until I looked at the driveway and said... There is no way. Little car can't get out of that.
Bless Jared's little Florida heart, but he expected the ol' gal to be able to drive over a mountain of snow. That went up to my calf. That had a crusted ridge peak whipped up by the wind. That had surprise! fun chunks of snow-plowed ice inside. Yeah. Right. He might have spent a few years here, but he is by no means a Minnesotan.
I made him shovel it so that he might realize the adverserial qualities that a bank of snow might possess. That'll learn him!
Other than that, today has been pretty boring. I made tons of mashed potatoes for the freezer. I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. Boring. You don't even want to hear the rest of my day becasue it probably involves scratching my butt and picking lint out of my belly button. (Which is, post baby, quite cavernous. Gross.)
So I leave you with this little tale which centers around... you guessed it! Poop! What kind of post would it be if I didn't at least mention poop?
Once upon a time this afternoon, tired of being on my feet, I fell back onto bed and got ready to watch some TV. I made my nest of pillows per usual and settled in with the clicker for some mindless fun. And just as I was starting to relax, I sniffed my pillow and thought:
It smells like poop in here. I have changed so many diapers that the house just always smells like poop.
And then I turned off my brain and watched the last 20 minutes of Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader. Just as the show was ending, Doobie was starting to wake up. So I stretched, rolled over, and took my few Deep Breaths Of Pre-Doobie Freedom. (Which, I hear, is a documented relaxation technique.) And there was that dreaded poop smell again, wafting up from the 7th circle of hell.
This is foul. Horrible. My house needs to be fumigated for this poop stench.
And then I suddenly realized. Crap. There must be poop in here somewhere.
And I opened my eyes and LO AND BEHOLD THERE WAS A POOP SMEAR ON MY PILLOW. Where my face was.
And my first thought was not: Ew ew ew! There was poop on my face!!
No. My first thought was... Damn. That is my favorite pillow case. Now I need to do laundry.
My life has come to a point where I would rather have poop on my face than to have more laundry to do. Don't you envy me?
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