Eight Things

Mathew tagged me for one of those meme things, and so I thought I'd do my part to spread the pestilence! Blar har har. Eight things you don't know about me. My GOD, the suspense is killing you.

One, I swept and mopped my mom's kitchen floor today, it was so gross. I forgot to pack my slippers and it became impossible to ignore all the crunching underfoot.

Two, Then I spent fifteen minutes on the phone with various people in charge of long-term parking lot C at LAX because Jackson left his little stuffed Webkinz beagle, Fireball, on the shuttle bus yesterday morning. I finally left a message with someone named Ruth, who seems to be in charge of the lost and found box. Jackson was concerned, but not weepy about losing his favorite little dog, and I was proud of him for looking for solutions (asking the woman at security what she thought he should do) rather than falling apart. Yay for being six.

Three, My new (Jack's old) phone has an alarm feature, so I woke up early this morning and did a full yoga practice on the floor of my old bedroom. In my underwear.

Four, I just ate a piece of peanut butter-flavored ribbon candy from Hammond's; at first it was good because hey! tastes just like peanut butter! But all too quickly it began sticking violently to my teeth.

Five, I talked to Jack on the phone this morning and I meant to apologize for being kind of noncommunicative for the last couple of days, what with getting ready to fly back to my mom's house and all that implies, so I started saying, "Sorry about being so distracted . . ." and he interrupted me and said, ". . . for the last ten years?" Yeah, it's quite a treat being married to me, obviously.

Six, Got pissed off at Jackson after buying him two new games at the mall for his Nintendo DS, since five minutes later he was all, "These games suck." "That's nice," I said, "next time you want me to spend $50 on games, guess what I'm going to say?"

Seven, My toes are once again OPI Red but not my fingernails; I do too much manicure-ruining stuff with my hands, I decided. I'll let you think about what those things might be. (Hint: not fisting.)

Eight, Not digging taking care of my mom, and she's easy. Truly, my heart is a small lump of coal.