1. holding children
2. driving
3. washing
4. folding
5. showering
6. wearing shirts
7. kitchen work
8. sitting at desk
9. rolling over in the night
10. bending over to pick things up.
The list above describes a usual day for me. Sigh.
I am absolutely furious. It's been "one of those days" and I'm afraid I made it through with all my loved ones alive only by the skin of my teeth. I've been fuelled by a lot of food-related and fat-related aggression moments, and only being allowed 10 of my 20 minutes of power-nap in the afternoon did not help at all.
As we closed in on tonight, Buzz and Jessie's fighting has reached insane levels. The most frustrating part of the sibling rivalry has been that it is punctuated by long periods when they play beautifully and show that they are, after all, very good friends. Woody has maintained an "Arsenic Hour" pattern of whinging in the late afternoons until bedtime ever since he was a newborn, and that has made everything worse.
My pants are a teensy bit tighter. This, along with associated issues, makes me hopping mad. (How many calories does one burn through hopping while mad?)
Woody needs to understand that I would be more favourably disposed towards him if he didn't throw lettuce from his plate around the kitchen, and Jessie needs to understand that the past participle of "wink" is not "wunk" and that trying different vowels gets her no closer to the correct word. (Please, for the love of all that is good, do not try different vowels at home.)
There's a motion-sensitive noisy toy trapped somewhere in the living room and I'm not sure where it is. It makes its annoying little noise periodically, and if I don't find it by bedtime, I'm done for.
Anyway. As if it could get any worse, I was breathing a sigh of relief after Woody had fallen to sleep, Mr de Elba was reading to Buzz, and I had finally wrenched myself away from Jessie and her interminable requests for stories and songs and can-you-sleep-with-me-Mummy, and I made myself a cup of tea. I could literally feel the stress of the day floating away as I put the teabag in, the kettle boiled, and I began to pour the water into my cup.
I must have been feeling particularly flaccid after the onslaught of the day, because as I leaned my tummy against the bench, the kettle slipped off the lip of my cup and spilled boiling water on the bench, and thence onto my waiting tummy.
I now have an angry red scald mark - across my tummy - and deep into my belly button - which is becoming more painful with each passing minute.
I would love to go to the Que Sera Sera art exhibition on Monday. I know the organisers are busy and very excited, and I know that the town is hearing about it because it was announced in the Community announcements this morning on a local station.
Only one problem - the announcer pronounced it "Queue Sarah Sarah."
I'm thinking that if you didn't do high school French, surely you've heard of Doris Day? Failing that - Normie Rowe? Nope? Okay, whatever.
Playing Toy Story Trouble with Jessie is tedious.
When we play, Buzz is Buzz, Jessie is Jessie, I am Woody and Mr de Elba is Zurg. Jessie is happy with this because (a) she is Jessie, and (b) she is opposite and not adjacent to Zurg, of whom she claims to be terrified because he's a Bad Guy.
Tonight, thanks to a large number of freak sixes, Jessie was streaking away to an early lead. All was going well until her counters started making it around to the half-way point in the board. "I don't want to go to Zurg's house!" she moaned with a theatrical tremble. And she took her counters off and put them back at the beginning.
Okay, I thought. She will just lose. That's fine.
Mr de Elba aka Zurg convinced her to leave a counter in his quadrant a few times, on the strength that Jessie liked Buzz and Zurg was Buzz's father, hence Zurg was her de facto father-in-law and they had to learn how to get along. Once a few of her counters were in the dreaded purple quadrant, any roll of the dice apparently allowed her to high-tail it out of Zurg territory, all the way back to her starting quadrant, skipping about 15 spots as she did so, gleefully announcing, "I'm getting away from Zurg's house! Yay!"
Okay, I thought. She will just lose. That's fine.
Half-way into the game, her fake fear of Zurg overtook her desire to win and she removed her counters from the playing board, saying she was going to "hide" from Zurg.
Okay, I thought. She will just lose. That's fine.
However, "hiding" from Zurg meant getting her counters to cower on the opposite side of the - you know - don't make me say it - oh okay, the jolly Pop-O-Matic Bubble.
This meant that her counters were, technically, in her "home" zone.
And she'd "won."
Humph.
First winner past the post - Selena! Yes, two days after an expensive steam-clean, there was an accident on the couch. There have been no similar accidents in the past, so to have it happen right after a professional cleaning was demoralising. Out into the sun for a day!
Buzz and Jessie found some streamers and so we had to have a party. No food, no music, no games, and no CAKE! What a disappointment. Just a big mess of streamers in the kitchen. Of course.
You have ... two ... new messages.
We're using some of Grandpa's old mathematics printouts as scrap paper for drawing on. Some of the graphs make awesome dot-to-dots!
