The husband called me one afternoon last week and told me that he and the baby were stuck in a good deal of traffic coming home from the Pirates game and would I mind taking the bus home? That was fine with me. I left work a few minutes early to beat some of the rush and on my way to the bus stop, I could see a cluster of inbound buses idling at the stop light. I knew that I was way too far away to catch them before they pulled up to the nearby stop and decided to just take my time and catch one of the next bunch.
Then this…nonsense ran through my brain.
As dumb as they are, I kind of wish I had a Segway right now so I could just make one of those buses…
But Segways are for douchebags.
I should jog more so that I can build up my speed so that I could just run to the bus stop…
But then I would have to wear my big ol’ sports bra all the time just in case I have to take off and my sports bra gives me UniHooter.
What would be really awesome is if I could fly. Then I could fly to the bus stop…
But wait…if I could fly, why would I be taking the bus? Wouldn’t I just fly home? Why is my imagination making me a pigeon?
Around this time I realized that I need to quit being so absurd.
Last night, I was talking in my sleep so loud that I woke myself up. I took a few seconds to wonder who I was talking to and about what before I realized that the answer to my questions was “No one real,” and “Probably bacon.”
I took the day off of work on Friday because I had a dentist appointment at a weird time. I was also, apparently, very exhausted as I slept on Thursday night through Friday morning for something like 12 hours. That evening, we headed out to Oakmont for the annual Greek food festival, which was unfortunately rained on but not before we had some delicious chicken, lamb shank, and loukoumades.
Saturday I was not feeling well, physically or emotionally. My mom came over and was trying to do stuff around my house while the husband was going to his grandmother’s to pick up his grandfather’s old hi-fi and there was too much stuff going on for me to handle. I burst into tears quite irrationally, but to my credit I haven’t done that in WEEKS. The baby felt really bad for me, though, and gave me a bunch of hugs, then took me by the hand and led me to the couch. “Lie down, Mum. Take a nap. You’ll feel better,” he said, and put a blanket over me. He then brought me some books, his DS, and a cup of water and patted me on the shoulder. It was the sweetest thing ever.
Of course, this morning, I was trying for 15 minutes to get him out of bed amidst his whining and groaning. While brushing my teeth, I yelled, “Are you out of bed yet?” He replied, “Yes! Gawd!” And technically he was. He had climbed out of bed…and then curled up on the floor and was falling asleep again.