I have recently found myself in a number of situations in which my wine glass is continually being filled. This is all well and good, and especially enjoyable when the wine has a lovely bouquet, and fills my nostrils and soft palate with the scent of fruits and berries and things that do not stink of an oaken barrel. Because too much oak = eeeewwww.
You can feel free to make a case for oak barrels, but I will just tell you up front, I am having none of it.
Last night I walked Neighbor Kid home, and got flagged down by another neighbor (neither of said neighbors is Halloween Shenanigans Neighbor), and invited in to chat. And also to enjoy an apparently bottomless vat of wine.
Big fun.
Until my punishment was doled out this morning, beginning around 5:17. Yes, the 5:17 that I never, ever, ever experience. I woke up with Fuzzy Mouth, so I got up, brushed the teeth, drank some water, applied peppermint oil to my angry temples, and went back to bed. I laid there, wide awake, for an hour.
Except for when The Mister's alarms were beeping and squawking loudly. Then I was dozing. I was dozing and he was hitting the snooze buttons on whichever devices are now my mortal enemies. Freaking technology beeping thingys.
The Mister got up for work and HB climbed into bed. His opening comment was, Mama, I told you the other day I do not like those underwears you have on. For the record, I do not wear my underwears multiple days. The kid just doesn't appreciate a good paisley pattern.
We were up for the day, watching TOY STORY (before coffee, y'all) at 6:23.
Wee Man was up just after seven. His opening comment? I want a new mommy. As it happens, the child actually wants TWO mommies, and was really disappointed when I said that some kids have two mommies, but he just gets a mama and a daddy.
SOMETIMES LIFE JUST SUCKS, KID. LEARN THE LESSON EARLY. But by early, I didn't really mean seven in the morning.
I know I shouldn't complain about watching the sun come up, but really, people, I am NOT a morning person. I dream about sleeping in. I salivate at the very thought of sleeping overnight in my own bed with no children in the house. Really, I'm wiping my chin right now.
Hours and hours later, Neighbor Kid and her whole famdamily came over for the long awaited Lemonade Stand. I made a sign for the end of our street. It said CUTE KIDS. LEMONADE. There was also an arrow pointing to our house. I am a marketing genius.
As it happens, Lemonade Stands, even when operated by very clever cute kids, are a high maintenance sort of situation. Beware the Lemonade Stand.
And if six children screaming BUY LEMONADE wasn't enough to make me spike the contents of my red plastic cup, Team Kirby showed up, wanting to deep clean my carpets.
Hi, Team Kirby, meet my friend HARDWOOD FLOOR.
The enthusiastic salesman offered to clean my sofa and a chair.
Hello, Mr. Enthusiasm. Meet my two sofas, and notice that I don't actually have a chair.
He offered to clean my two sofas.
I asked if he could get the pee out of the sofas, as the sofa is the second most favorite place to pee. The maple tree in our front yard, right by the road, trousers dropped, cheeks to the road, is the number one most favored place to go.
Mr. Enthusiasm himself didn't actually clean my sofas. Mr. Sweaty Ghetto Talker cleaned them, and wanted to show me all the pretty and shiny things.
After shutting down the pitch four or five times, I said, Please listen to me. There is absolutely no way I am going to purchase anything from you. I'm only in this for the free sofa cleaning. I'm having people over for dinner, and my baby is screaming because he's starving, and my kids are dumping lemonade on each other. I cannot and will not talk about your pretty vacuum cleaner.
A half-hour later, he packed up his things and left. He didn't even say goodbye. But I have two REALLY clean couches to remember him by.
And I will enjoy those things for the next five minutes. Because that is how long they will remain clean.
You can feel free to make a case for oak barrels, but I will just tell you up front, I am having none of it.
Last night I walked Neighbor Kid home, and got flagged down by another neighbor (neither of said neighbors is Halloween Shenanigans Neighbor), and invited in to chat. And also to enjoy an apparently bottomless vat of wine.
Big fun.
Until my punishment was doled out this morning, beginning around 5:17. Yes, the 5:17 that I never, ever, ever experience. I woke up with Fuzzy Mouth, so I got up, brushed the teeth, drank some water, applied peppermint oil to my angry temples, and went back to bed. I laid there, wide awake, for an hour.
Except for when The Mister's alarms were beeping and squawking loudly. Then I was dozing. I was dozing and he was hitting the snooze buttons on whichever devices are now my mortal enemies. Freaking technology beeping thingys.
The Mister got up for work and HB climbed into bed. His opening comment was, Mama, I told you the other day I do not like those underwears you have on. For the record, I do not wear my underwears multiple days. The kid just doesn't appreciate a good paisley pattern.
We were up for the day, watching TOY STORY (before coffee, y'all) at 6:23.
Wee Man was up just after seven. His opening comment? I want a new mommy. As it happens, the child actually wants TWO mommies, and was really disappointed when I said that some kids have two mommies, but he just gets a mama and a daddy.
SOMETIMES LIFE JUST SUCKS, KID. LEARN THE LESSON EARLY. But by early, I didn't really mean seven in the morning.
I know I shouldn't complain about watching the sun come up, but really, people, I am NOT a morning person. I dream about sleeping in. I salivate at the very thought of sleeping overnight in my own bed with no children in the house. Really, I'm wiping my chin right now.
Hours and hours later, Neighbor Kid and her whole famdamily came over for the long awaited Lemonade Stand. I made a sign for the end of our street. It said CUTE KIDS. LEMONADE. There was also an arrow pointing to our house. I am a marketing genius.
As it happens, Lemonade Stands, even when operated by very clever cute kids, are a high maintenance sort of situation. Beware the Lemonade Stand.
And if six children screaming BUY LEMONADE wasn't enough to make me spike the contents of my red plastic cup, Team Kirby showed up, wanting to deep clean my carpets.
Hi, Team Kirby, meet my friend HARDWOOD FLOOR.
The enthusiastic salesman offered to clean my sofa and a chair.
Hello, Mr. Enthusiasm. Meet my two sofas, and notice that I don't actually have a chair.
He offered to clean my two sofas.
I asked if he could get the pee out of the sofas, as the sofa is the second most favorite place to pee. The maple tree in our front yard, right by the road, trousers dropped, cheeks to the road, is the number one most favored place to go.
Mr. Enthusiasm himself didn't actually clean my sofas. Mr. Sweaty Ghetto Talker cleaned them, and wanted to show me all the pretty and shiny things.
After shutting down the pitch four or five times, I said, Please listen to me. There is absolutely no way I am going to purchase anything from you. I'm only in this for the free sofa cleaning. I'm having people over for dinner, and my baby is screaming because he's starving, and my kids are dumping lemonade on each other. I cannot and will not talk about your pretty vacuum cleaner.
A half-hour later, he packed up his things and left. He didn't even say goodbye. But I have two REALLY clean couches to remember him by.
And I will enjoy those things for the next five minutes. Because that is how long they will remain clean.
So, H.B. is an underwears connoisseur all ready. I see an exciting future for him. *smiles*
ReplyDeleteI'm kinda with you on the oak barrels.. ick.
ReplyDeleteAlso with you on the hardwood floors *hi-5*. But? Ya'll need to get yourselves a couch covered in non-fabricy material.. You do.
I love it when carpet peoples come to my door. There just ain't no bidness for them here. I'm working my way towards being able to just simply hose down my house.. on the inside. I just need to put that darned floor drain in.
Someday.
Also? You're my favorite. I love you.
The couches were clean and the food was good and the wine that Joe's friend's mom made was not oak-ish at all. I don't think she even owns an oak barrel. Neither do we, so you can count on our Sweet Peach wine being sweet-y peach-y and not oak-ish at all. So you should remind me to give you a bottle when you come over just in case I really didn't give you one for Christmas which I just can't believe, but really, anything is possible with my brain at this time.
ReplyDeleteXOXO
Joce
Maybe you could spray your furniture with the same stuff used to waterproof leather boots and shoes...except that stuff is highly flammable...it works though. Just don't use it near open flames :)
ReplyDeleteNote to be outdone by your churchpunk friend - you are my fave, too :). Also - you can win a FREE PRIZE if you leave a book review on my blog. You are one of my 3 or 4 commentors so the odds are pretty good.....
ReplyDeleteDid you actually write this while you were drinking from that vat of wine? It seems that way, which I love.
ReplyDeleteAnd like I always say, "Any day that my (insert noun) doesn't smell like pee is a good day."
Well, come party with me, Mr. Hot and witchypoo, and your wine will smell like cardboard and plastic bags. ;-)
ReplyDeleteI didn't write this whilst consuming wine. My spelling is atrocious when drinking.
ReplyDeletei too dream of sleeping in. my favorite "me" activity to do: sleep.
ReplyDeleteand i HATE alarm clocks. hearing them makes me feel sick & panicky.
awesome on the free clean couches...i so could use that. 'cept without a sales pitch and all.