Last night, I twittered: “on second glass of wine. Have ditched pants entirely. Onto the dishes.” Reviewing that now, I realized that it sounds like I ditched my pants physically onto the dishes, which is just not what happened. I poured myself my second glass of wine, removed my pants, and then started to do the dishes. I just really wanted to clear that up. I am a lady, after all.
Anyway, Jwan was over last night and we watched Platoon, crossing another movie off of my Fundamental 80s Movies list…which doesn’t really exist in any physical format and we should really write these things down before we forget and I go another 20 years without seeing Risky Business.
Afterward, I went to bed and fell asleep HARD and slept through three events:
– The husband woke up at 3 a.m. because he smelled something strange and realized that our house was filled with some kind of smoky fog (smog, I guess). He scurried around for a few minutes, trying to determine if we were on fire, before noticing some emergency vehicles a street away and realizing that there was some fire over there or something and that we were okay, fire-wise.
– The baby got up some time later and came into our room to tell us that he needed to go to the bathroom and started farting. I do recall hearing the husband say, “Do NOT poop your pants,” but apparently was not alarmed enough to see to any impending (literal) shitstorms.
– My alarm clock going off.
I told the husband that this obviously means that he, alone, is on save-the-family detail since I can’t really be bothered.
To be fair to myself, and it’s my blog so I get to do that, it’s a dreary, rainy day and I really think I should get an award for getting up at all. I also fed my child, dressed him, put him on the bus, showered and dressed myself all in under an hour. Actually, now that I think of it, I’m going to walk to Starbucks and reward myself with a Pumpkin Spice Latte. ‘Tis the season and I need to get started on my pumpkin-flavored-junk addiction.