There are random oranges in my house. Hi, I’m back. No, I didn’t have a sabbatical, other than from clear thinking…. It has been beyond busy here. Or maybe it’s just me and the rest of my house has been moving at a snail’s pace. Who knows. There have been a few times when, on the way to work, I second guessed if I had deodorant on. Trust me, the girl weaving on 435 was only trying to verify, not be a crazy Missouri driver. Taking this SPHR class has really made me examine one thing. How the hell did I get through college? Man, I am awful at studying. I’m even worse when I am being used as a kleenex, referee and line cook. 4 hours of class a week and then 12-15 hours of study time. I’m sorry….that leaves me no time to eat my bon-bons and ignore my kids screaming. Unacceptable.
But back to the oranges. There are small, really ripe balls of clementine-y goodness scattered around my house. I’m not exactly sure why. And really I have learned not to question. Because J will just look at me like I’m nuts and say….’I was in the shower. They were quiet. What’s the problem’. Fantastic. There is a small window in which these small citrus bombs will make my home smell like I just cleaned….and then…..4.5 minutes later….it will smell like something died in here. I found 4 today alone. 1 on the entry table, 1 under the trampoline in the playroom, 1 under the kitchen island and 1 on M’s bookshelf. Good thing I fake reading to them every night or else that one would never be found. Oh and I found 1 peeled and sitting in it’s juicy goodness on my night stand. At least my glasses won’t mysteriously walk away if they are stuck to the table.
Today, as I’m removing 27 stickers from my shirt…. Teaches me to give the boys stickers to keep them quiet while I’m on a work call… I look like I had been feathered-minus the tar. ..I realize M is using his juice box like a priest when the priest sprinkles holy water on the congregation. Except this is apple juice and the congregation is L, the dog and 3 blankets that now need to be washed. Ugh.
Oh Tater tot…. if I liked the dog more, I would volunteer to sell M. Good thing I don’t like the dog that much.
L told me tonight as we were in line at McD’s, that I can’t hit the car in front of me. Just to clarify, I don’t make a habit of doing that. I asked L why and he said ‘because that is Christian’s car’. I said ‘who is Christian?’ L responded “He lives in the bathroom at Pre-k”.
Dear Christian, I have some oranges for you.