Weasel Of Doom

Behold Filler. As if Patchworkz does not take enough time :-)

There are other free games on the site, too, if you are so inclined.

Yesterday sucked.

Apparently God decided that I was whining too much over Squeektar throwing up in the tub and in the beds, and figured it was time to lay the smack down. As I was driving from the Saturn dealership to pick up Squeektar at WMUG’s, I started feeling really ill, and threw up ALL OVER THE CAR. That’s right. Vomit all over the car that we are planning to sell in a few days.

Also, vomit all over my suede coat. Which currently in a garbage bag thoughtfully provided by the mother-in-law. Who, to give credit where credit is due, did not bat an eyelash when I showed up on her doorstep covered in puke (yes, literally covered. It was not pretty.) and gave me some clothes to wear home, as well as another garbage bag to cover the seat.

I got home, ran in and threw up again, and that set the pattern for the rest of the evening. Poor BelovedSpouse was sick, too, so we could not even attempt to clean the car. SqueekeryOne fell asleep at 8 pm, I went to bed shortly after, and by 9:30 pm both DemonChild and BelovedSpouse were in bed, too.

On the plus side, Squeektar and spouse are both feeling better today. I stayed home, and feel like shit.

In the grand scheme of things, none of this is really important. A friend of ours got laid off yesterday, with no warning. I am sure they would take a pukey car over that any day.

And God, I think I learned my lesson. So if at all possible, I would like not to throw up in the car again.

Tonight, right as I got done washing the boys and was waiting for the soapy water to drain before refilling the bath, Squeektar threw up. Repeatedly. On the plus side, he was already naked, and it is so much easier to clean stuff off porcelain than, say, carpets or couches. And first trimester is over, so the sight and smell of vomit no longer induces me to do some throwing up of my own. On the minus side, ewwww.

Six days out of seven, BelovedSpouse gives the kids their bath. Statistically, the screwy things should be happening to him. But no, I am the lucky one who gets mystery pee on carpets, toilet-bowl-bailing-out attempts, and now a half-digested McDonald’s happy meal all over the tub.

[continued half an hour later]

Well, spouse got home and discovered that Squeektar threw up some more in his sleep. Poor thing. I am crossing my fingers that it’s just something he ate…

Sunday, around 2 pm. Phone message from World’s Most Useless Grandma (WMUG):

“Would today be a good day to come over? I am gone until 3:30, give me a call after that.”

Sunday, around 8 pm. Phone conversation with WMUG:

“We already arranged for baby-sitters today. Feel free to come on Monday around 5:30-6:00. See you then!”

Monday, 5:25 pm. I tell DemonChild that Grandma is coming over tonight. DemonChild is excited.

5:45 pm. No WMUG.

6:15 pm. Still no WMUG. We stuff ourselves on mac and cheese.

7:00 pm. I call WMUG’s house, on the off chance she fell and broke a leg or something. She picks up the phone. Does not sound on the brink of death. Was doing her taxes and lost track of time. So sorry and all that. Let’s try again on Sunday, or maybe next Monday.

And somehow it is OUR fault she does not get the see the kids enough…

I took down our Christmas icicle lights today, and the wreaths from the sides of the garage. And there was much covert rejoicing in the neighborhood, and some overt rejoicing by BelovedSpouse.

*sniff* I miss my pretty wreaths!

If you:

1) Have an SUV with a carpeted cargo area in the back

2) Transport a Christmas tree inside said SUV

3) Don’t clean it for the next three months

Then don’t be surprised when

4) On the first nice day of spring you spend over two hours trying to vacuum out all the little needles. Because during those three months the needles have formed a close personal relationship with the carpet fibers, attempted to breed with them, and when that failed, burrowed in deeply to die. And now the carpet fibers are holding on to the dead needles for dear life, because apparently they are not done mourning yet, and thus cannot be bother to give a flying fuck about minor details like needing to get the car clean before we start trying to sell it.

Moral of the story:

5) Get an artificial Christmas tree.

My Dad likes to say that there are two questions people can’t figure out the answer to:

(1) Where dust comes from; and (2) Where money goes.

Well, in our case this month’s answer to the second question is “used 2003 Chevy Venture minivan” and “freaking expensive 40,000 miles Jetta maintenance which we got at 65,000 miles because somehow we missed it the first time around.”

*sigh*

As fate would have it, last night I convinced HisMelness that he will survive watching the boys for 20 minutes while I make a quick library run. DemonChild and Squeektar were both in an agreeable mood, so after a gourmet meal of McDonald’s happy meals for them and tea with McDonald’s apple pies for me, I put the pedal to the metal and high-tailed it to the library.

So many books, and only 10 minutes to pick some out. I decided on the path of least resistance and perused the new releases shelves. The result: currently reading “Dust” by Elizabeth Bear, while “The Absolute Sandman, Vols. I & II” by Neil Gaiman are patiently waiting for me in a spot unaccessible to my children. The Sandman books are graphic novels, and lugging them to the car was quite the work out :-)

And today I ordered “Night Life,” “Creation in Death,” and “The Sweet Far Thing” from Amazon.com. Bookseses, sweet bookseses!

After two years of living in the new house, I finally made it to the public library a couple of weeks ago. A shame, really, since the library is only five minutes away from us, so I am not sure why it took me so long.

For my inaugural run, I checked out three books: “The Kept Man” by Jami Attenberg, “The Opposite of Love” by Julie Buxbaum, and “The Heart-Shaped Box” by Joe Hill.

“The Opposite of Love” – very enjoyable tale of young lawyer Emily Huxby figuring out what’s important in life, and what the opposite of love is. I read it in one night.

“The Heart-Shaped Box” – another very good read. Aging rock star Judas Coyne buys a ghost, and bad things start to happen. Another late night spent reading.

“The Kept Man” – for some reason, I just could not get into this tale of Jarvis Miller, whose husband, a famous painter, has been in a coma for six years. Returned it to the library today, with no regrets.

Hopefully I will make another foray into the library soon. I miss reading!