Well I’m sitting here, all by my onesie, and there are dishes to be done and toys to be picked up, but there is also a block of concrete that has taken up residence in my face, just below my right eye, and that seems like the perfect excuse to poke at some little letter buttons and see what sorts of pretties they make on the screen.
My husband is traveling, internet, and therefore I AM ALL YOURS. You’d never leave me, would you? Of course you wouldn’t.
I spent the whole of my internet time last week reading the ENTIRE archives of Etiquette Hell. This is all Temerity Jane’s fault. I’m now so goddamn polite, I don’t even know what to do with myself. So polite, in fact, I’m not going to throw things at her for pointing out that treasure-laden corner of the internet.
It’s only unfortunate because I’m about 80 pages into The Princess Bride, which is every bit as awesome as the movie except moreso, and I totally stopped reading it so I could burn through those archives by glow of iPod into the wee hours of the morning. Some more wee than others, as evidenced by being up past 3AM on Friday night/Saturday morning, despite promising Matt I’d get up with the girls, who rise before 7AM to greet the morning with shrieks of BAGEL CLIFFORD CARTOON BANANAS, and I wish I could blame this only on my poor choice of drinking a gigantic vat of Diet Dr. Pepper at 7PM, but it was what came AFTER that will keep me up until Matt gets back from his trip.
It was my mom who bought me the giant Diet Dr. Pepper, because we were out and about at the mall shopping for WEEBABY things and also non-baby things, and basically killing time so we’d get me back home after Matt had already put the girls to bed. Which ended up not mattering anyway, because my mom, after seeing me quietly whisper to the still awake Vio from the hallway, thought it was okay to GO INTO THE ROOM where Matt was lying on the floor beside Roo’s bed singing her lullabies, and then HEY IS THAT MA MA IS THAT YOU HI MA HI YOU WANT TO SEE MY ELEPHANT?
Basically we killed time and ingested all that Diet Dr. Pepper for nothing. So then my mom decided it was time to go, and we giggled HAHA about how Matt is just going to KILL HER next time he sees her for setting back bedtime, though he had no idea by JUST HOW MUCH, because then my mom went out to her car and I heard a really weird noise. But I was catching up on Twitter, and I was like “hmm, that was a very strange noise. I shall have to inquire as to what made such a noise the next time I talk to my mom on the phone,” which was a pleasing thought until came the RAPPING AT THE DOOR.
And, okay, you hear a weird shrieky noise outside and then someone taps on your door, and I’m picturing it not so much a hand as a HOOK scratching away out there, but it’s getting more intense. My door has no peephole, just windows on either side, but I don’t want the dread pirate to SEE ME, so I say through the door, “Is that you? MOM? Is that you?” AND OH YES IT WAS HER AS SHE WHISPER-SHOUTED FOR ME TO OPEN THE DOOR BECAUSE SOMEONE GRABBED HER IN HER CAR.
Internet, I wish I were making that up, ESPECIALLY because her car was IN MY DRIVEWAY AT THE HOUSE WHERE I LIVE when this took place. So I’m calming her down and I’m calling 911, and there is no one out there that we can see, but basically I’m pretty sure some idiot teenager in the neighborhood heard her say, “It’s okay, you don’t need to lock the door” (BRILLIANT, MOTHER) and decided to see what he could ransack from the car. But then she got back outside too quickly, so when she sat in the driver’s seat and turned on the car, she felt A HAND GRASP HER SHOULDER.
I hope you all appreciate me telling this goddamn GHOST STORY as I sit here alone in my big scary house. Fine, my CRAMPED, TINY scary house.
So the police came, and nothing was missing from the car, and I’m betting whoever was in the car was just as terrified as she was, thinking this lady whose van had naught but a giant bag of kettle corn and the hugest bottle of omega-3 vitamins you have ever seen was going to drive off with him to wherever such ladies drive. Like a drug store or nail salon. The terror he must have felt.
Anyway, she’s fine, and when the cop was here, he actually joked that maybe it was the monkey. REMEMBER THE MONKEY? I’m pretty sure that’s what it was, because Vio woke up Saturday morning with a cough and I’ve got this gunk in my face, so probably it’s the monkey pox or flu or whatever those dudes spread with their poo-flinging, vitamin-stealing ways. Well, ATTEMPTED vitamin-stealing. It was brand new and still had the safety seal, and I’m guessing he left it behind because his primitive monkey hands couldn’t figure out the child-proofing.
I am sort of looking forward to seeing the write-up in the police blotter, though. I’ll have to cut it out to add to my mom’s media file, including that time she was on the local news in her housecoat talking about the tornado that blew by the house.
Whatever. Florida is CLASSY.