1-2-SQUIRREL!!!

I have a self-diagnosed condition and it can be quite serious. It is housework-induced ADD.

One day, a couple days before Thanksgiving, I started cleaning house while Andrew was napping. I began in the kitchen, trying to clear some of the clutter that had accumulated. I emptied the dishwasher, re-loaded the dishwasher, and was getting ready to clean the counters and vacuum the floor when I decided to take some stuff out to the trash and recycle. I stepped into the garage and saw the mountain of cardboard spilling everywhere and began flattening and neatly stacking it, crushing plastic bottles, and cans so they'd fit into their allotted bins. I took the trash out, and came back inside. I stepped into the bathroom to wash my hands and I started scrubbing the bathroom. I cleaned the tub, the toilet, the sink, the mirror, the counter, then I headed back for the kitchen to clean the counters. I got into the kitchen and remembered that I still needed to wash my hands. 

As I was getting ready to clean the counters, I decided to take a couple dish towels to the laundry room, where I found a load of laundry that I needed to start, a load I needed to fold, and the pajamas of Andrew's that I'd been looking everywhere for... I took a load of towels and sheets upstairs, started putting them away, and decided to change the sheets on the bed, then I decided to take a shower before Andrew woke up. 

A little while later I returned downstairs, freshly showered and in need of a cup of coffee. I made my cup of coffee, Andrew woke up. We went on about our day, and as I was heading for bed that night I looked around, and thought "I really need to clean those counters and vacuum tomorrow."

The day we went to get our Christmas tree, Andrew and I were having a quiet lazy morning watching Mickey Mouse waiting for Daddy to wake up.  When he got up, he asked if I wanted to go get a tree. I said yes, but I wanted to shower first. So I headed upstairs to get ready, and as I was running some water in my sink, I was once again frustrated by how slow my sink runs. I have tried a few times to fix it without removing the drain pop-up, because those can be such a pain to put back in, but I knew that my problem was a gunky clogged up pop-up. I started trying to clean it with Q-tips, but wasn't making any headway. I went back downstairs and asked Matt if he had a tubing brush in his tools. He said no. I grabbed some baking soda, white vinegar, and an old bottle brush from the hospital and headed back upstairs. I started trying to clean it out with the brush, but managed to completely clog the sink. So I emptied out the cupboard under the sink, and tool the trap apart, and then removed the pop-up; immediately a whole bunch of icky gunky water poured into my waiting container.  I put the pop-up into another container, sprinkled baking soda on it and then poured vinegar over it. Then I scrubbed it with the bottle brush until it was sparkly clean. I reassembled my sink, and then started sorting through all the various and sundry items that I had removed from the cabinet. I gathered up a large load of stuff that was headed for the trash, put the stuff I wanted to keep neatly back in the cupboard, scrubbed the sink, and counter, and for good measure, Matt's sink too. 

Now nearly 30 minutes have elapsed since I headed up to take a shower. I take my large armload of stuff down to the garbage, and as I walk past my husband he asks me, "are you ready to go?" I look at him, utterly bemused and say, "No. I was fixing my sink!" As if asking me if I were showered and ready to go was completely out of the question, I mean really, why would you ask me that?

It's a wonder that I ever get anything fully accomplished. 

More Adventures in Retail

I know I left off with a teaser about Suzie and the Cat Coffin... but I don't feel the time is quite right for that story.  Instead I will share a couple of stories from the past two days at work. 

Yesterday Andrew was sitting in his high chair eating his sandwich when an older gentleman walked in. He made the typical "oh, you're selling babies now?" joke that we hear so often. I said, "yep," and Heidi said, "he's on special." 

The man says, "I'd take him any day... I assume it's a him and not a her," I said that Andrew was in fact a boy, and he says, "I'd take him in an instant, blue eyed beauty." Then as he walked past to get something off a shelf he said, "white skin." 

Heidi and I exchanged a look, like, "did that really just happen?" The guys bought his stuff and left, and I said to Heidi, "Ummm... White skin?" Then I looked out the window to see him get in his car and drive off and I said, "hmmm, I thought he died in a bunker in 1945."

This morning started off very early, I woke up at 5:00 am because Andrew was crying. I went in and got him back in his normal position in bed and tucked him in and he went right back to sleep. I got back into bed and as I was just about to fall asleep again, I sat bolt upright and said aloud, "The scanners have to be plugged directly into the computer, and not run through the USB hub, THAT'S why they aren't working!!" Then I fell asleep again. A few hours later on my way to work, I was driving along listening to a Sesame Street Singalong for Andrew, and went to take a sip of my coffee when the cup slipped and the lid fell off and I spilled coffee all down my front and lap, burning myself pretty well, and making for an uncomfortably wet lap. 

I got to work and handed Andrew off to my sister and went to the bathroom to run my clothes under the hand dryer until they weren't so soggy. Thankfully I had extra jeans and a shirt in there. I changed, and went out ready to start my day of work. It was a fairly crazy busy day, and the day was zooming by, thankfully with working barcode scanners at every till. 

At one point, a customer who has been coming in for the past 15 years came in. He said to me, "you changed your hair." I replied in a pleased tone, "Yes, I did." He says, "There's no such thing as too much blond you know." Realizing he didn't care for my red streaks as much as I do, I said, "I was just ready for something a little different." He says, "I blame it on a lack of adult make supervision." At this point I was sure I must not have heard him correctly, so I asked him what he said, and he repeated it. I said, "oh, well my husband likes it." He says, "I'll have a talk with him." 

I didn't say a word. Instead I just mentally envisioned what that conversation would be like... 

When I got home tonight I warned Matt that a customer wanted to have a talk with him because he shouldn't like the red in my hair. I guess he will need to learn how to control his woman better! Hahahahahaha