I’ve been unmotivated lately to do anything but redecorate and eat comfort foods. No, I am not pregnant. You’d be able to hear Hubs’s shrieks as I beat him unmercifully with my pregnancy test if I were. The change of seasons does it to me. So Monday, my usual day to publish a blog post, I took the day off to sew pillows in honor of veterans, care for my ailing daughter and suffer through birthday cake/Halloween candy withdrawal (it looked like a scene from Trainspotting up in here.)

I vowed to buckle down yesterday and write something of quality…and yet I didn’t. I just didn’t make time in my productive schedule. I did a great many things. I was very busy. Want to hear about it? No? Too bad, I’m going to tell you anyway. Here’s what I accomplished yesterday instead of writing:

• Thought of three clever tweets.

• Realized that I’d already tweeted one of my clever tweets the night before.

• Checked WebMD for symptoms of early onset Alzheimer.

• Watched my daughter stagger around dramatically, demonstrating how she was on her death bed and deserving of our sympathy.

  

  Yes, I am standing over her “death bed” to take a picture. I staged my own death scene when I was six so this is a very proud moment for me. I wish my mom had taken a picture but apparently she was busy cleaning up the “blood splatter”.

• Enrolled her in acting classes.

• Purchased one can of black beans and five packets of holiday foam shapes from the dollar bin at Target with an ancient gift card, because it was the day before pay day. In my family we traditionally ate beans and behaved in a destitute fashion the week before my father was paid. I still like to observe many of our poverty-born traditions, especially around the holidays.

• Made an Advent calendar with purchased holiday foam shapes while watching episode after episode of various Disney Channel sitcoms. The Advent calendar is full of activities that my family can do together. I’m taking wagers as to how many activities we accomplish before Hubs is making irrational parental ultimatums, both kids are crying, and I abandon the whole idea.

  

  On the back of each shape is a precious family memory just waiting to be made. PRECIOUS! NOW STOP YELLING AT YOUR SISTER!

• Checked repeatedly to see if my complexion had cleared after my one day off of candy and cake. Spoiler: It had not. Detox is a slow process.

• Checked repeatedly on the remaining birthday cake to see if it was still there. It was.

• Called Narconon and demanded to speak with Kirstie Ally.

  

  “Look honey, Narconon deals with cocaine and mother ships, not chocolate. Call me at my Jenny Craig number.”

   

• Forgot my son at preschool until a teacher called me. By the time I arrived, he’d been made an employee and was working toward his pension. On the way to the car he asked me to forget him tomorrow too. Drove him home in a shroud of guilt.

• Used the can of black beans purchased earlier to make a soup for my ailing daughter in near darkness (due to Hubs’s handiwork with our kitchen light fixture), while reminding myself that I do love my husband and should never ever ask him to perform household tasks that involve electrical wiring and/or breakable objects.

  

  Never ask a man who breaks down doors for a living to change a fluorescent light bulb. He punched it repeatedly but it still won’t work.

• Made no less than four bonehead moves cooking said soup in near darkness, resulting in temporary blindness, a burn and a lot of extra mess.

• Cleaned the kitchen, I think, hard to say in the dark.

• Performed the bed time routine: reassemble beds, search for mysterious pee smell in bathroom, coerce, cajole, assist, read stories, kiss foreheads, drink beer.

Riveting, isn’t it? It all seemed way more interesting at the time than writing.

Photo Credits:

Wikipedia

IMDB

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