Hmm...
It's starting to make sense to me now why Scott stayed last night and Constantine went...
Check out the site here.
Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
2 years ago
Thursday, April 28
New poll
I apologize for the previous post, which contained the worst pun and the longest run-on sentence I've ever written. Ah well.
Because it's obvious that the people had spoken long ago over the Bo vs. Constantine debate, I have posted a new poll, this one dealing with Survivor. If I remember, I'll change it each week to reflect who's been booted. But right now you can take your pick from any of the remaining contestants. So have at it.
I apologize for the previous post, which contained the worst pun and the longest run-on sentence I've ever written. Ah well.
Because it's obvious that the people had spoken long ago over the Bo vs. Constantine debate, I have posted a new poll, this one dealing with Survivor. If I remember, I'll change it each week to reflect who's been booted. But right now you can take your pick from any of the remaining contestants. So have at it.
Pickled pink
Am I the luckiest girl in the world or what? A coworker brought me an ENTIRE JAR of pickles today. I ate two already and I think I'm going in for a third!
Later this afternoon I have an ultrasound and I'm also getting a shot (hopefully not in the ass). So either this evening or tomorrow I'm going to post a state of the pregnancy address, depending on how lazy I am this evening.
The only other thing I have to say at the moment is that I am still shocked and awed over last night's ouster of the pouty Constantine. Don't get me wrong, I'm still rooting for my local boy Scott, whom I know doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell, but I was utterly floored that Scott was not in the bottom three last night, because I thought for sure he was gone. Him or that Federov punk. But not Constantine. I thought the Greek wonder rocker was a contender to win it. Now I'm pretty sure that Carrie Underwear is going to win and that does not please me whatsoever. Because she sings BOTH kinds of music, country AND western! Once Scott goes, which, if we're all being honest, should be next week, I'm throwing my support behind Vonzell. And then none at all.
Am I the luckiest girl in the world or what? A coworker brought me an ENTIRE JAR of pickles today. I ate two already and I think I'm going in for a third!
Later this afternoon I have an ultrasound and I'm also getting a shot (hopefully not in the ass). So either this evening or tomorrow I'm going to post a state of the pregnancy address, depending on how lazy I am this evening.
The only other thing I have to say at the moment is that I am still shocked and awed over last night's ouster of the pouty Constantine. Don't get me wrong, I'm still rooting for my local boy Scott, whom I know doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell, but I was utterly floored that Scott was not in the bottom three last night, because I thought for sure he was gone. Him or that Federov punk. But not Constantine. I thought the Greek wonder rocker was a contender to win it. Now I'm pretty sure that Carrie Underwear is going to win and that does not please me whatsoever. Because she sings BOTH kinds of music, country AND western! Once Scott goes, which, if we're all being honest, should be next week, I'm throwing my support behind Vonzell. And then none at all.
Monday, April 25
The long and short of it: vacation
While I enjoy the last few hours of my vacation (back to work tomorrow), I thought I'd recap last week's festivities for all those interested.
First, I'd be remiss not to mention the Maroon 5 concert. Which would have been good, I think, had it not been completely ruined by the two drunk guys in front of us. We had good seats on the floor, maybe 20 or so rows back, right in the center. The drunk guys were in their 20's, and at first, it appeared that only one of them had been imbibing too much. This guy was a cross between Survivor contestant Gregg and Survivor/TAR contestant Boston Rob, but uglier:
Anyhoo, this dude took it upon himself to start grinding on some late 30-something women at the end of his row. And when I say grinding, I mean full-on gropage. It was disgusting. And, as this was occurring right in front of me, I had no choice but to stare at it in disbelief.
So while Drunk Dude #1 is getting his groove on (and I'm still not sure whether the women were into him or not -- they were pretty trashed too), Dude #2 keeps trying to signal his buddy. I'm thinking that maybe he realizes that his friend is too wasted, and needs to get a hold of himself. But then, all of a sudden, Dude #2's standing there, and then the next second, he collapses to the ground.
"And I thought he was the sober one," I remarked to my friend, Amy, who was the other witness to this horror.
So I guess it was an interesting show, if anything. The worst part was after the show when we saw Drunk Dude #1 and #2 get into a car, with Drunk Dude #1 behind the wheel. We got their license plate, but didn't call the police. I wonder if we should have.
Tuesday morning began bright and early. Especially for me -- I didn't sleep a wink. We had to be ready to be out the door at 5 a.m. My contact lenses burned when I tried to put them in, so I opted for my glasses. Wearing my glasses in public has always made me feel self-conscious, and added to my sleep-deprived state, along with my feeling of apprehension toward flying, I was building toward a mini-meltdown.
Meltdown level was achieved when, in the security line, I was stopped for having an expired driver's license. Oops. It's been expired since January. What this entailed was me going back to the ticket counter and getting "EXPIRED LICENSE" written all over my boarding passes, and then being submitted to what my husband jokingly referred to as a "buttcrack search" when I went through the security line again. I got wanded, and then a female security guard gave me a thorough pat-down, thorough enough for her to feel that I had a baby inside of me and congratulate me. It really wasn't a big deal, now that I look back on it, but at 6 a.m., while I was wearing my glasses and tired and scared about the upcoming trip, it was too much. I fought back tears and also fought back the urge to tell my husband that the trip was off.
(Side note: I went today to renew my license. Despite the fact that I did my hair and makeup immediately before making the five-minute trip to the DMV, they still ended up making me look like a career criminal in my photo. And I was followed by a cop for most of my trip from home to the DMV, which would have been just my luck to get pulled over.)
However, after that, it was smooth sailing. All of our flights were on time, our layover in Phoenix was short, and we landed in Vegas at about noon Vegas time. Plenty of time to gamble. We checked in to our hotel room at the Tropicana and headed into the casino, where I immediately lost the majority of my gambling allowance at the quarter slots. I made some of it back at the blackjack table, but then ultimately lost everything that I had set aside to gamble with. After the dismal gambling afternoon, we headed to our hotel room to shower, and ended up napping for about three hours. The lack of sleep had finally caught up to me. But the nap allowed us to get a second wind and head back out for more gambling. We went to the Luxor for a short period of time, and then ended up at the MGM Grand, where my husband actually won back what he had lost and more by playing single-deck blackjack. After that, we were spent, and called it a night.
Wednesday we ate breakfast and then headed back to the airport to catch our flight to Burbank. We landed in California at lunchtime, rented our car for the week, and began our adventure to find our hotel. The route took us through some of the sightseeing spots, such as Warner Brothers studio, Hollywood Blvd., and finally the Sunset Strip, which was where our hotel was located. We walked around the surrounding area by our hotel, and finally settled into a small pizza shop across from the famous Viper Room bar (R.I.P. River Phoenix). After that, we decided that we should just drive to Anaheim to find the ballpark, and if we got there early, we'd just drive around that area and check it out. It was about 4 at that point; the game started at 7.
Thus began our introduction to the infamous L.A. traffic. Holy crap! Our Mapquest route said that the trip was about 37 miles from our hotel and that it would take about 48 minutes. Yeah. We got there a little bit after 6. Traffic was at a standstill almost the whole way there. I'm sure a lot of that had to do with rush hour, but if I could have had a drink when I got to the ballpark, I would have had to have several to calm my frayed nerves.
Our seats that night were in the very last row of the stadium, behind home plate. Good views, but far away. I was impressed with the ballpark, and also by the Angels fans. It felt like being back in Jacobs Field in the mid-90's when the Indians were good. Not surprisingly, the Indians lost Wednesday's game, 1-0.
Thursday we had nice weather (it was in the 60's and a little breezy for the entire trip) so we decided to take a drive out to the beach. We followed our map and got on Pacific Coast Highway (PCH to the locals) and decided to go to Venice Beach. Interesting place. All kinds of people were there. I can imagine that when the weather is really nice, this place is quite crowded. The beach itself was pretty much desolate. I wanted to at least stick my feet in the ocean, so we went to the shore. The water was freezing cold so my stroll in the water was short-lived. I found a sea shell that I was going to take home as a souvenir, until I realized that the owner of the shell was still living inside of it. I put him back in the water instead. We had lunch in a little cafe on the boardwalk there and enjoyed the freakshow quality of some of the locals.
We headed back, and decided to get an early start to Anaheim for the second of our games. This time we got to the stadium around 5, in time to watch the Indians batting practice. We had awesome seats, front row along the first base line, a few feet from the foul pole. Before the game, we had tons of guys around us with their gloves, hoping to catch a foul ball. No one was disappointed. Tons of balls came into our section. My husband even caught one, but gave it to a kid who was standing near us.
Oh yeah -- the Indians lost this game too. We were winning until the 8th and 9th innings. But in typical fashion, we found a way to blow it.
Friday... it was chilly, cloudy, and rainy. So much for our plans to spend time by the pool. (We went up to check it out anyway -- it was on the roof of our hotel -- but HBO was filming an episode of the show "Entourage" and there were people everywhere, so we made a hasty exit.) Instead, we went up to Hollywood Blvd. and walked around. We went to the famous Chinese theater, and the Hollywood Wax Museum, and I was attacked in front of the theater by an in-character Chucky doll (played by a midget). Not cool. Darth Vader was pretty sweet, though.
Friday evening we had the Josh Rouse concert, so we went out to eat and then got to the club. It was a good show, and I felt really at ease there. I was worried that I would be underdressed compared to the L.A. chicks, but I think we blended in really well.
And then Saturday, we came home, exhausted, and arrived into Cleveland to the sight of a plane being de-iced. A freaking snowstorm. "Welcome back to reality," the pilot said over the P.A. system. Yeah. Ha. Except, by that time, I was ready to be home and sleep in my own bed and see my kitties.
What I'm not looking forward to, now, is going back to work. Hopefully the next two 1/2 months will go by in a blur. And then my vacation-but-not-really-a-vacation starts... my summer break while I'm home with a newborn son. Talk about a reality check.
While I enjoy the last few hours of my vacation (back to work tomorrow), I thought I'd recap last week's festivities for all those interested.
First, I'd be remiss not to mention the Maroon 5 concert. Which would have been good, I think, had it not been completely ruined by the two drunk guys in front of us. We had good seats on the floor, maybe 20 or so rows back, right in the center. The drunk guys were in their 20's, and at first, it appeared that only one of them had been imbibing too much. This guy was a cross between Survivor contestant Gregg and Survivor/TAR contestant Boston Rob, but uglier:
Anyhoo, this dude took it upon himself to start grinding on some late 30-something women at the end of his row. And when I say grinding, I mean full-on gropage. It was disgusting. And, as this was occurring right in front of me, I had no choice but to stare at it in disbelief.
So while Drunk Dude #1 is getting his groove on (and I'm still not sure whether the women were into him or not -- they were pretty trashed too), Dude #2 keeps trying to signal his buddy. I'm thinking that maybe he realizes that his friend is too wasted, and needs to get a hold of himself. But then, all of a sudden, Dude #2's standing there, and then the next second, he collapses to the ground.
"And I thought he was the sober one," I remarked to my friend, Amy, who was the other witness to this horror.
So I guess it was an interesting show, if anything. The worst part was after the show when we saw Drunk Dude #1 and #2 get into a car, with Drunk Dude #1 behind the wheel. We got their license plate, but didn't call the police. I wonder if we should have.
Tuesday morning began bright and early. Especially for me -- I didn't sleep a wink. We had to be ready to be out the door at 5 a.m. My contact lenses burned when I tried to put them in, so I opted for my glasses. Wearing my glasses in public has always made me feel self-conscious, and added to my sleep-deprived state, along with my feeling of apprehension toward flying, I was building toward a mini-meltdown.
Meltdown level was achieved when, in the security line, I was stopped for having an expired driver's license. Oops. It's been expired since January. What this entailed was me going back to the ticket counter and getting "EXPIRED LICENSE" written all over my boarding passes, and then being submitted to what my husband jokingly referred to as a "buttcrack search" when I went through the security line again. I got wanded, and then a female security guard gave me a thorough pat-down, thorough enough for her to feel that I had a baby inside of me and congratulate me. It really wasn't a big deal, now that I look back on it, but at 6 a.m., while I was wearing my glasses and tired and scared about the upcoming trip, it was too much. I fought back tears and also fought back the urge to tell my husband that the trip was off.
(Side note: I went today to renew my license. Despite the fact that I did my hair and makeup immediately before making the five-minute trip to the DMV, they still ended up making me look like a career criminal in my photo. And I was followed by a cop for most of my trip from home to the DMV, which would have been just my luck to get pulled over.)
However, after that, it was smooth sailing. All of our flights were on time, our layover in Phoenix was short, and we landed in Vegas at about noon Vegas time. Plenty of time to gamble. We checked in to our hotel room at the Tropicana and headed into the casino, where I immediately lost the majority of my gambling allowance at the quarter slots. I made some of it back at the blackjack table, but then ultimately lost everything that I had set aside to gamble with. After the dismal gambling afternoon, we headed to our hotel room to shower, and ended up napping for about three hours. The lack of sleep had finally caught up to me. But the nap allowed us to get a second wind and head back out for more gambling. We went to the Luxor for a short period of time, and then ended up at the MGM Grand, where my husband actually won back what he had lost and more by playing single-deck blackjack. After that, we were spent, and called it a night.
Wednesday we ate breakfast and then headed back to the airport to catch our flight to Burbank. We landed in California at lunchtime, rented our car for the week, and began our adventure to find our hotel. The route took us through some of the sightseeing spots, such as Warner Brothers studio, Hollywood Blvd., and finally the Sunset Strip, which was where our hotel was located. We walked around the surrounding area by our hotel, and finally settled into a small pizza shop across from the famous Viper Room bar (R.I.P. River Phoenix). After that, we decided that we should just drive to Anaheim to find the ballpark, and if we got there early, we'd just drive around that area and check it out. It was about 4 at that point; the game started at 7.
Thus began our introduction to the infamous L.A. traffic. Holy crap! Our Mapquest route said that the trip was about 37 miles from our hotel and that it would take about 48 minutes. Yeah. We got there a little bit after 6. Traffic was at a standstill almost the whole way there. I'm sure a lot of that had to do with rush hour, but if I could have had a drink when I got to the ballpark, I would have had to have several to calm my frayed nerves.
Our seats that night were in the very last row of the stadium, behind home plate. Good views, but far away. I was impressed with the ballpark, and also by the Angels fans. It felt like being back in Jacobs Field in the mid-90's when the Indians were good. Not surprisingly, the Indians lost Wednesday's game, 1-0.
Thursday we had nice weather (it was in the 60's and a little breezy for the entire trip) so we decided to take a drive out to the beach. We followed our map and got on Pacific Coast Highway (PCH to the locals) and decided to go to Venice Beach. Interesting place. All kinds of people were there. I can imagine that when the weather is really nice, this place is quite crowded. The beach itself was pretty much desolate. I wanted to at least stick my feet in the ocean, so we went to the shore. The water was freezing cold so my stroll in the water was short-lived. I found a sea shell that I was going to take home as a souvenir, until I realized that the owner of the shell was still living inside of it. I put him back in the water instead. We had lunch in a little cafe on the boardwalk there and enjoyed the freakshow quality of some of the locals.
We headed back, and decided to get an early start to Anaheim for the second of our games. This time we got to the stadium around 5, in time to watch the Indians batting practice. We had awesome seats, front row along the first base line, a few feet from the foul pole. Before the game, we had tons of guys around us with their gloves, hoping to catch a foul ball. No one was disappointed. Tons of balls came into our section. My husband even caught one, but gave it to a kid who was standing near us.
Oh yeah -- the Indians lost this game too. We were winning until the 8th and 9th innings. But in typical fashion, we found a way to blow it.
Friday... it was chilly, cloudy, and rainy. So much for our plans to spend time by the pool. (We went up to check it out anyway -- it was on the roof of our hotel -- but HBO was filming an episode of the show "Entourage" and there were people everywhere, so we made a hasty exit.) Instead, we went up to Hollywood Blvd. and walked around. We went to the famous Chinese theater, and the Hollywood Wax Museum, and I was attacked in front of the theater by an in-character Chucky doll (played by a midget). Not cool. Darth Vader was pretty sweet, though.
Friday evening we had the Josh Rouse concert, so we went out to eat and then got to the club. It was a good show, and I felt really at ease there. I was worried that I would be underdressed compared to the L.A. chicks, but I think we blended in really well.
And then Saturday, we came home, exhausted, and arrived into Cleveland to the sight of a plane being de-iced. A freaking snowstorm. "Welcome back to reality," the pilot said over the P.A. system. Yeah. Ha. Except, by that time, I was ready to be home and sleep in my own bed and see my kitties.
What I'm not looking forward to, now, is going back to work. Hopefully the next two 1/2 months will go by in a blur. And then my vacation-but-not-really-a-vacation starts... my summer break while I'm home with a newborn son. Talk about a reality check.
Sunday, April 24
Back to reality
I'm back, did ya miss me?
The trip was great. The weather was in the high 60's, low 70's, a little breezy, but after returning home to find snow, it was quite nice.
I have uploaded some pics here if you'd like to see them.
Update: photo has been removed because it was screwing up my page. You can still click the links to view my photo album.
I'm back, did ya miss me?
The trip was great. The weather was in the high 60's, low 70's, a little breezy, but after returning home to find snow, it was quite nice.
I have uploaded some pics here if you'd like to see them.
Update: photo has been removed because it was screwing up my page. You can still click the links to view my photo album.
Monday, April 18
A few more things before I go...
- I dislike Jack Black. A lot. But I watched the movie "Envy" over the weekend and thought it was pretty good. Not because of Jack Black, though. Walken. Christopher Walken. He was awesome in this movie, and for that reason, I recommend it.
- It made my day today to have the opportunity to bust Bad Lady. She wasn't here on Friday (for reasons that are still unknown), and when the time sheet went around this morning, lo and behold, she didn't mark that she was out. Mistake? Highly doubtful. If this was the first time it happened, I would just mention it to her that she forgot. However, this is a regular occurrance. She frequently will take half days and not mark them. (I usually mark them for her, though, because I'm sneaky and passive-aggressive like that). Today, however, since it was a full day, I just went in to my boss and pointed it out to him and let him deal with it. Whee!
- I'm going to Maroon 5 tonight, forgot to mention that. I'd say something about Adam Levine here but there's a minor chance that my husband may read this and I'd get in trouble for sure. But would I kick him out of bed for eating crackers? Mmmno.
- NBA playoffs start this weekend. Go Cavs! Except, oh wait. They probably won't be in 'em. Hey, looks like that Usher hand signal wasn't so lucky after all.
California, here I come
This is my last day of work before I leave for vacation. Tomorrow at 7:45 a.m., we fly into the great city of Las Vegas, Nevada, for one fun-filled day of gambling, losing all our money, and then laying by the pool if it's warm enough. Wednesday, we fly into Burbank, California and will remain in the southern Cali region until Saturday. During that time we'll take in a few Indians games (they are playing the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim), do some touristy stuff, and celebrate our two-year wedding anniversary.
I am a little apprehensive (ok, who am I kidding -- I'm a LOT apprehensive) about flying, especially since my doctor seemed not too jazzed about it. I'm at 27 weeks and they strongly discourage flying after 28 weeks. So I'm right on the cusp. I don't think anything will happen, but I'm never going to forgive myself if it does.
But, once the flight is out of the way, I'm sure I will enjoy myself.
I'll be back for your blogging pleasure sometime soon. With pictures, to boot.
This is my last day of work before I leave for vacation. Tomorrow at 7:45 a.m., we fly into the great city of Las Vegas, Nevada, for one fun-filled day of gambling, losing all our money, and then laying by the pool if it's warm enough. Wednesday, we fly into Burbank, California and will remain in the southern Cali region until Saturday. During that time we'll take in a few Indians games (they are playing the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim), do some touristy stuff, and celebrate our two-year wedding anniversary.
I am a little apprehensive (ok, who am I kidding -- I'm a LOT apprehensive) about flying, especially since my doctor seemed not too jazzed about it. I'm at 27 weeks and they strongly discourage flying after 28 weeks. So I'm right on the cusp. I don't think anything will happen, but I'm never going to forgive myself if it does.
But, once the flight is out of the way, I'm sure I will enjoy myself.
I'll be back for your blogging pleasure sometime soon. With pictures, to boot.
Thursday, April 14
See, now I probably would have just eaten it
First there was Scott Savol. Now, Cleveland can be proud of its latest pseudo celebrity, Nang Duong. If you haven't heard, Nang was eating a bag of Cheetos and seems to have found Jesus inside. But just his legs -- which means, folks, that THE REST OF HIS CHEETO BODY IS STILL OUT THERE. Oh, the horror!
So he did what any rational human being would do... he put it up on EBay.
I think a search party must be dispatched immediately to find the rest of the Cheeto Jesus. I'll go check my vending machine right now.
The worst part of this story? He'll probably make about 50 bucks on the cheeto legs from some sucker. That's enough to buy, like, a whole bunch more bags of Cheetos.
UPDATE: The eBay listing can be found HERE. Hurry! Only one day left to bid!
First there was Scott Savol. Now, Cleveland can be proud of its latest pseudo celebrity, Nang Duong. If you haven't heard, Nang was eating a bag of Cheetos and seems to have found Jesus inside. But just his legs -- which means, folks, that THE REST OF HIS CHEETO BODY IS STILL OUT THERE. Oh, the horror!
So he did what any rational human being would do... he put it up on EBay.
I think a search party must be dispatched immediately to find the rest of the Cheeto Jesus. I'll go check my vending machine right now.
The worst part of this story? He'll probably make about 50 bucks on the cheeto legs from some sucker. That's enough to buy, like, a whole bunch more bags of Cheetos.
UPDATE: The eBay listing can be found HERE. Hurry! Only one day left to bid!
Wednesday, April 13
I hereby lay claim to all names within...
Kat's Aliases |
| Your movie star name: Chips Brooks |
| Your fashion designer name is Kathleen Belfast |
| Your socialite name is Christ Vegas |
| Your fly girl / guy name is K Jam |
| Your detective name is Giraffe Beaumont |
| Your barfly name is Cookies Wine |
| Your soap opera name is Andrea Carroll |
| Your rock star name is Skittles Gazelle |
| Your star wars name is Katdom Jamkei |
| Your punk rock band name is The Tired Spork |
She's gone ... but they're back
My favorite part of American Idol last night? Why, it was the appearance of Hall and Oates in the audience, of course. Jamming TO THEIR OWN SONG. It takes balls to do that. And while Hall is still looking good, I have to say that time has not been kind to Oates.
My predictions for the bottom three are Nadia, Anthony and either Bo or Scott. Probably Scott. Although at my household, we did our part to vote for the local boy, that is for sure.
Now the scuttlebutt is that Anwar is gay, and that this will negatively affect his votes. What. Ever. I think that Anwar needs to be the lead singer of a modern era Kool and the Gang. Wouldn't that rock? Well, I think it would.
My favorite part of American Idol last night? Why, it was the appearance of Hall and Oates in the audience, of course. Jamming TO THEIR OWN SONG. It takes balls to do that. And while Hall is still looking good, I have to say that time has not been kind to Oates.
My predictions for the bottom three are Nadia, Anthony and either Bo or Scott. Probably Scott. Although at my household, we did our part to vote for the local boy, that is for sure.
Now the scuttlebutt is that Anwar is gay, and that this will negatively affect his votes. What. Ever. I think that Anwar needs to be the lead singer of a modern era Kool and the Gang. Wouldn't that rock? Well, I think it would.
Friday, April 8
Quick, someone call Webster
I'm not positive, but I think I have coined a new word. Probably not, because it's not that original, but it makes me chuckle.
The word is gigundies. As in, gigantic undies. Also known in some circles as granny panties. They are the most hideous of the underclothes, large swathes of unsexy material in sizes the good Lord didn't intend. The kind you buy at Target in 8-packs for $6 that come rolled up in a plastic bag like socks sometimes do.
Not that I would know, or anything. *cough*
I'm not positive, but I think I have coined a new word. Probably not, because it's not that original, but it makes me chuckle.
The word is gigundies. As in, gigantic undies. Also known in some circles as granny panties. They are the most hideous of the underclothes, large swathes of unsexy material in sizes the good Lord didn't intend. The kind you buy at Target in 8-packs for $6 that come rolled up in a plastic bag like socks sometimes do.
Not that I would know, or anything. *cough*
Wednesday, April 6
Picture time!
I have mastered the digital camera. Well, not quite mastered it, but at least I know how to use it, and that's a start.
Here's a decent shot of my elusive cat, Molly.
The progress in the baby's room is as such:
Dom in his favorite spot in the house: inside the bathroom on the rug.
And finally, a shot of me that my husband took today while I was waiting to get on the computer.
I have mastered the digital camera. Well, not quite mastered it, but at least I know how to use it, and that's a start.
Here's a decent shot of my elusive cat, Molly.
The progress in the baby's room is as such:
Dom in his favorite spot in the house: inside the bathroom on the rug.
And finally, a shot of me that my husband took today while I was waiting to get on the computer.
Tuesday, April 5
Arachnophobia
I've gotten pretty good at the "peeing in the middle of the night" routine. I can get out of bed, walk to the bathroom, close the door, pee, wipe, wash hands, flush... without turning the lights on and without, for the most part, opening my eyes. I occasionally crack one eyelid to check and see where the toilet paper is, but other than that, I barely need to break out of r.e.m. mode.
However, last night, I was mid-pee, when I remembered that there had been a spider in the bathroom. My husband was all "don't kill it -- spiders eat other bugs." So I left it alone, even though it really creeped me out to be sharing a private moment with an eight-legged freak. As long as I could see it on the wall, I knew it wasn't, for instance, about to drop onto my head.
Not true in the middle of the night in the dark.
I mean, it could be anywhere. It could be on the toilet seat. On the toilet handle. On the light switch. It could be inches away from my face.
So I did what any rational human being would do. I didn't flush, and I didn't -- gasp -- wash my hands, and very cautiously opened the door to get out and go back to bed.
I've gotten pretty good at the "peeing in the middle of the night" routine. I can get out of bed, walk to the bathroom, close the door, pee, wipe, wash hands, flush... without turning the lights on and without, for the most part, opening my eyes. I occasionally crack one eyelid to check and see where the toilet paper is, but other than that, I barely need to break out of r.e.m. mode.
However, last night, I was mid-pee, when I remembered that there had been a spider in the bathroom. My husband was all "don't kill it -- spiders eat other bugs." So I left it alone, even though it really creeped me out to be sharing a private moment with an eight-legged freak. As long as I could see it on the wall, I knew it wasn't, for instance, about to drop onto my head.
Not true in the middle of the night in the dark.
I mean, it could be anywhere. It could be on the toilet seat. On the toilet handle. On the light switch. It could be inches away from my face.
So I did what any rational human being would do. I didn't flush, and I didn't -- gasp -- wash my hands, and very cautiously opened the door to get out and go back to bed.
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