Monday, February 8, 2010

Headbooking Twits

So the Offspring, my kids and not the Alternative rock band, were off from school today and TheManTheMyth didn't have to work today so what that meant is that my weekday routine was totally shot to shit.  

Lucy and I have a set routine once everyone has left the house.  Lucy moves from her bed in the living room to her spot by the dining room table and settles in for her post-breakfast nap and I head to my office to check e-mails, the District 37 website for race updates and info (and gossip) and read the various blogs I subscribe to and even contribute to my own blog.  If my poor, ancient and gasping for its dying breath iMac decides to start coughing and sputtering, which seems to happen more often these days, I'll mosey to the kitchen and do the dishes, start a load of laundry and get the house in a semblance of order in the time it takes poor ol' Mac to stop coughing and wheezing.

But when the familia is home, especially TheManTheMyth, everything is thrown out of whack.  It drives TheManTheMyth nuts when I'm on the computer when I could be doing something productive, such as scrubbing baseboards with a toothbrush, cleaning the rain gutters and organizing the pantry in alphabetical order instead of spending all day on "Twit and Headbook."  It took me a minute to realize he meant "Twitter and Facebook."  Which I actually don't spend much time on because I'm actually too busy reading all the different blogs I subscribe to and Facebook just made changes that are just plain stupid if you ask me and I know you didn't but I figured I'd let everyone know how I feel about these new changes.

Anyway.  Thing 1, who is milking this knee injury the way a farmer milks a cow, needed me to drive him here and take him there.  And he chose the time I take Lucy to the park, which delayed park time almost 2 hours.  Lucy wasn't pleased to have her day disrupted just because The Red Rocket needed to have yet another smog test done since it failed the first test (study next time!) and then off to Auto Club to renew the registration and Gimpy the Kid claims he can't do it because he's injured even though he's been Mr. Party Animal all weekend but is suddenly completely helpless.  And TheManTheMyth keeps coming in to my office and stands behind me and I turn and say, "What?" and he just shrugs and wanders off and I think he needs me to entertain him because he hates being idle and since when am I Cruise Director Julie?

Oh geez, I just got a chain e-mail that was all religious.  I hate chain letters.  Hate.  Them.  Anything that tells me to "forward this" automatically gets forwarded straight to the trash.  Sorry, Fleetwood Mac but what you hear me sayin' is that I DO break the chain.

Thank goodness the kids go back to school tomorrow and TheManTheMyth, well, I hope he has somewhere to go so that I can get back to my usual routine of blogs, message boards and Headbooking Twits.

4 comments:

  1. I love my private time and lately that is the hour between my son leaving for school and me going to work. I piddle around on the computer and watch/listen to the TV. I detest having someone screw up my alone time and I truly truly hate the "I'm busy so you need to be busy". Screw that.

    Honestly, when they're invading your alone time they should vacate any room you step into and otherwise behave as if you weren't around. That would be ideal. Or they could leave for the day. That would be ideal-er.

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  2. I am so with you on this one! I cherish the minute my kids are dropped off at school and my husband's off to work. He makes his own hours and lately he has just been dawdling around the house. It drives me CRAZY! And when I ask him when he's leaving, he'll ask me in this hurt tone if I don't like having him around. It upsets my routine and I love my routine!

    Same thing, too about the computer. I feel like my husband thinks I should be doing housewifely things or doting on his every word and movement. But, when I accuse him of just that, he completely denies it and claims he doesn't feel that way. Men . . . you can't shoot them, although there are days. . .

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  3. I hate when my time is messed up!!

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