Not Ideal Conditions

Somehow I got sucked into babysitting/housesitting for the past 24 hours. It didn't sound like such a bad deal when the mom said that I could stay out as late as I wanted and "even bring my boyfriend." Yeah, right.

After I stayed out as late as I wanted last night, ahem 11:00pm, I came home to find the girls (age 12) already asleep. I readied myself for bed, got all tucked in and it was then that I noticed a strange beeping sound. This short beep would occur once a minute. I was tired, it was dark, and I didn't have my glasses on so I wasn't about to go stumbling around trying to figure out the source of this noise, but I figured it was either a) a dying smoke detector or 2) a carbon monoxide detector and we'd all be dead by morning. At any rate, I closed my eyes.

Did I mention it beeped once a minute? Yeah. All. Night. Long. Now I've already had the Phoebe experience in my own home when the damn thing has awoken me and you stumble around to find it only to have it take you on in a war of who beeps last. So I simply let this one beep itself to death. Except it never died. It's still beeping once a minute right now, 24 hours later.

So that was one aspect of the conditions of this home. Another was the smell of rotting food in the house. Something had clearly died in the fridge so I steered clear of there, but I also narrowed the source to the pile of black bananas that were so rotten they had oozed out of their peels. I decided a PB & J sandwich would be safe for breakfast.

I held my breath to snatch the jelly out of the fridge, made my sandwich and was about finished when I noticed mid-chew that I had been eating half-moldy bread. Gulp. In the trash, off to play soccer mom.

We didn't win the game but the girls played hard and got sweaty. We had no time to run home between sports so they had to change into volleyball uniforms in the back of the car. One of them said, "I'm sorry, my feet might really stink." Understatement.

With the windows rolled down we cruised down US-69 and I deposited them at their next event. I was off to a baby shower. All the the rest of the afternoon I'm thinking, "how does it still stink so damn bad in here?" Car is parked in the sun, nasty. It isn't until I get home that I realize her funk-nasty soccer cleats were riding around with me all day under the seat. Febreze!

So, after a hefty dose of penicillin and a strong test of my patience, I'm home. A few pounds heavier and exhausted.

Awkward!

So I'm walking into Target, my third one of the day (hey, when you're on a mission, you're on a mission!), when I approach the automatic doors. I'm being followed at an appropriate pace by a gentleman about my age and about three feet taller. I always use the automatic doors because, why not? As I come to these set of doors I fully expect them to open...automatically. Alas, they do not so I come face to face, literally, with the glass. Shortly thereafter, the man, fully expecting me to have gone through the doors seconds before, is now butt to face..er crotch... with me. We stand there for what feels like an entire minute maybe hoping that by some will of God the door will open, at which point I finally say the only thing that feels appropriate for this close encounter with both the door and each other, "Awk-ward." We giggle and step to the left to enter through the self-service set of doors. If you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

Wanted: Cat Whisperer

This is a 17 lb. cat. You will see from the photo that his favorite place to sleep is on the toilet. Granted it is one of the yucky ones with the cushions, but he barely fits his stocky self on there. Now, here's my beef with this situation: he craps next to the toilet, pees in the sink, yet sleeps on the toilet. Do you think if I leave the lid open he will use the toilet like a big boy? A la Jinxy?

Violation?

Yesterday I was at Wal-Mart. In a miracle of miracles I was able to walk out with only a package of dental floss. This has never happened to me before. My measly purchase came to a grand total of $0.96. I handed over my dollar, thinking of where I could go next to spend the money I didn't end up spending at Wal-Mart. I had my wallet's change pocket unzipped and my hand open, ready to receive my change, when the clerk reached over my hand and placed my 4 cents directly into my wallet. This is weird, right? I should feel violated? Because I did. I laughed uncomfortably and answered no, I did not need a bag and left. This seems like something they should address in Wal-Mart etiquette.

Dental Orneriness

I was at the dentist earlier this week. I love my dentist and the dental hygienists who work there. One of the nice things about this place is that they give you the suction device to hold, so that you aren't sitting there, drowning in your own spit. But, let me ask you this...have you ever thought about, when their face is directly above yours and you're holding that suction, just sticking it to their face? Right up their nose? In their ear? I did. Think about it that is. I guess that's what happens when you go to the dentist after working with 12-year-olds all day long.

Words of Encouragement

I found this post-it in my pocket. Not sure where it came from or who wrote it, but I'm glad we are in agreement.

Making Something Out of Nothing

I babysit every Friday at Jazzercise. Doing so allows me to get my Jazzercise classes for free. Normally I only have two kids and they are very self-sufficient with the occasional sibling quarrel.

Yesterday I showed up and their mother, the instructor, said, "Good luck with that babysitting room." Hmmm. I entered the room and, you can see from the picture, good luck indeed.

They are remodeling our center and in the process, removed every single toy from the babysitting room. I guess they forgot that there was just the one more class before the weekend? Or maybe they just didn't care.

Luckily I only had the two kids and with the help of several exercise balls, one of which met its demise that day, one plastic football ring, and three plastic McDonald's toys, we had a jolly good time. How we managed to pop the ball with absolutely nothing else in the room is pondersome.

Some entertaining phrases that were exchanged: The little boy to me, "You get the big blue ball because you're big." This is something you never say to a woman. "Are you a teenager or a grownup?" I took this one as a compliment.

Thanks, Facebook!

If you're a member of Facebook, you know that on the right panel there are "Friend Suggestions." A lot of the time these are people that you've gone to high school or college with, or sometimes they are friends of friends. I've always wondered exactly how they, being Facebook, come to make these suggestions as sometimes they are a little creepy.

Take today for example. Today I had two new friend suggestions. Both of them were guys I had been on blind dates with. Both of the dates were less than awesome. Both were guys I no longer talk to anymore.

How does Facebook know this? Big Brother, much? Needless to say, no, I don't want to be friends with these guys and I sincerely hope that the dozen other date rejects don't start showing up. I don't need to relive that again. So thanks, but no thanks, Facebook. I appreciate your suggestions...most of the time.

$30 Dip

Today I went to the grocery store to buy supplies for a new dip I'm trying for Thanksgiving. Per usual, I had to buy all the ingredients on the list and the grand total for this measly dip...$30! This better be some darn good dip!

Granted I don't cook much so I don't already have things like balsamic vinegar and cayenne pepper, but good gravy! This is exactly why I don't cook! If I have to spend $30 for every meal...or appetizer, no thank you. I'll stick to my $3 Lean Cuisines.

Tis the Season

Salvation Army bell ringers. Yes, they serve a purpose. I appreciate the good they are doing for the world, but at the same time I am not ashamed to admit they are driving me bananas! And it's not even Thanksgiving yet!

They are posted at every entrance to every store, everywhere. They ring their bell and give me that look like, "Shouldn't you be putting money in my little red pot?" Now let's be honest, I'm walking into a store to spend money, so I should be putting money into the pot, but I don't. There are so many of them if I gave to one, I'd feel obligated to give to them all. I enjoy the people who say, "I'll catch you on the way out." Right.

Now, let's say I gave $1 to every bell ringer I saw. I'd be broke before Thanksgiving! Giving a dime to them all would be more reasonable, but can you imagine the look of disdain I would receive as my change plinked into the bucket. I think once you donate you should receive a button saying, "I donated."

And then there are those times when you think you've made an escape and managed to find that one door that's unattended. You see the bucket, but there's no ringer, so you quickly park and make a mad dash for the door. But then, out of nowhere, the ninja bell ringer appears as though they've been lurking in the shadows waiting for you.

And the incessant ringing! Can't they just agree to ring once a minute? Instead of the constant ringing, ringing, ringing. I know, tell us how you really feel, right? I'm just saying.

Whew. I feel better. Thanks. Now I'm going to go get a 4th job so I can afford the Salvation Army. Happy Holidays!

To "Sesame Street" or not to "Sesame Street"

Today, while babysitting at Jazzercise, my usual set of kiddos were doing their usual activity: making me "food." This activity consists of them asking me what I'd like and they scrounge it up out of the play food area and serve it to me. (Why isn't this reality?)

Around the 3rd order I decided I wanted a cheeseburger. I was given two choices of buns: "With sesame streets, or without sesame streets?" Apparently "sesame streets" are what they put on the buns for adults. Happy meals do not come with these, they do however come with a toy.

I learn so much from moments such as these.

Another Blonde Moment

Scene One: A Grocery Store
I had bought all my groceries, done a great job of being green by bringing my own bags, and the sacker had bagged all my groceries. I bought the usual items: frozen dinners, Diet Coke, and a special treat, some popcorn.

Scene Two: Home
I unpack the groceries and discover that my popcorn isn't in the bag. I am disappointed as I was looking forward to this tasty treat. This isn't the first time I've purchased something and it hasn't made it into the bag and I know that if I bring my receipt back to the store, they'll give me my missing item. I'm too lazy and move on.

Fast forward several weeks.

Scene Three: Home
I am packing my lunch before work when I reach into the freezer and what do I discover? My popcorn! (sheepish grin)

Dear Thighs,

I've noticed your hard work lately in trying to hold my pants up by expanding your girth, however, this is not your job. Your job is to remain slim and trim and to look awesome. While I appreciate your effort in going above and beyond, it's been a while since I remember you doing your job. Please leave it to the belts.

Sincerely,

Self-esteem

Compliment: You're Doing it Wrong.

Today I was standing outside my classroom door, greeting my students, when a colleague approached me and said, "Wow. You look comfy today." To which I replied, "Wow. That doesn't sound like a compliment." (I know, sarcastic, but c'mon!)

She then started to backpedal. "No, no! I like your pants."

Yeah. And you look fat in that dress.

What's in a Name?

Today, while babysitting at Jazzercise, one four-year-old girl said to a five-year-old boy, "Is it OK if I just call you Trevor? Cause I don't know your name."

I'm all for this. Let's not bother with asking. Let's just pick names for people. You- you look like a Denise.

I'd Like to Give a Shout Out...

To Community America for their fabulous automated voice system. But first, I will credit them for calling and checking on my "suspicious account behavior". No, really. Thank you. Having had my identity stolen before, this is much appreciated.

However, the system they have to check the transactions leaves much to be desired. Somehow, just from the phone you call from, they can identify your account. Then you enter your last 4 digits of your SSN. And then comes the robot with the Asian accent.

First the regular robot says, "Please verify the last 4 transactions." Then the robot with the accent says something and the date and amount. You are then supposed to verify it. My particular robot said, "Sahltay Eegwanay. August 18, 2009. $10.52." You'll have to imagine the accent yourself. Then you're supposed to press 1 to verify, press 2 if you don't recognize it, press 3 to repeat the transaction.

I had to repeat it about four times before I finally figured out what the heck the name of the business was. And it was only because of the date and then amount. Mind you I was driving at the time so I had no bank statements to look at.

The transaction was for my lunch today. Salty Iguana. That's not what was said. They should really think about some quality control. That robot should be fired for not learning phonics.

Check Your Battery!

Ever since I was little, people haven't been able to figure out what my name is when I say it. And trust me, it's not because I have a speech impediment or have a lack of enunciation.

My first memory of this recurring problem was when we used to visit Santa every year. I'd sit on his lap and he'd say, "What's your name?" I'd tell him and then he'd reply, "What would you like for Christmas, Katie?" Crap. I knew then I wouldn't get what I was asking for because he didn't know who I was.

As the years passed this problem continued. Everywhere I went and I had to introduce myself people could never get it right on the first try. The first guess is always, "Katie?" No. I try again. Then, "Hayley?" Nope. One more time. Then it's usually some unique name they've come up with like "Kayley". If only they wouldn't quit listening after the first syllable they'd stand a fighting chance.

This is why in college I switched to my "bar name" of Kelly. It solved so many problems. The problem of a) no one could figure out what I was saying in a loud bar and 2) I didn't want the gomer to know my real name anyway.

This morning while working out this same problem arose. Our instructor shouted (over the loud music) to introduce yourself to the person next to you. I did and of course we went through the above routine. I left her thinking my name was Hayley because it was just easier that way.

Jazzercise is kind of like a bar. Loud music, lots of people watching, some inept dancing...I should have gone with Kelly.

Cats

Cats have an internal signal that goes off whenever you are doing a project on the floor that is very cat unfriendly. They sleep all day and as soon as you hit the floor with scissors, glue, and things that need to be placed just so, here they come!

Today I was making a job chart for my classroom and had to lay out letters across the top of my poster board. All day my cats had been sleeping. I mean all day. Couldn't even lift their heads to speak to me as I passed. The second I started laying out the letters they both came down. Of course the letters got messed up, everything got out of alignment. One sat on the materials, another played with the ruler. Sigh.

I remember this happening when my mom used to try and cut out patterns on the living room floor. They just can't help themselves.

Karma

Yes, I've been blog-happy lately. Enjoy.

Those of you who are lucky enough to be my facebook friends may recall that earlier this week my status was that I was, "delighted to find a 9th Pop-Tart in my box of 8."

It really was quite exciting. First I was pissed because I thought they had jipped me and I only had seven. There was one lonely tart in a package, sealed all by itself. Then I counted again and there were four other packages of two. Delight.

After posting this on facebook, most of my friends were happy for me but one naysayer said that it was failed quality control and I should worry. Debbie Downer! I was still ecstatic.

Yesterday I reached into my cabinet to pull out a package of 100 calorie chocolate covered pretzels. This box lives on the top shelf so I just blindly grab and pull down. When I did, I discovered that I had...an empty bag. Mind you the bag was sealed, but it was sans the pretzels. I've been robbed!

So I guess this is Karma repaying me for that extra Pop-Tart. I knew I had to make it up somewhere.

Am I Senile?

After yesterday's eye doctor debacle I was convinced that I had gone crazy and my blurry vision was a figment of my imagination. Turns out, according to my trusty doctor, that my vision has changed since May (yes, just mere months ago) and a new prescription was in order. So, the technician took me to a room where she gave me a trial pair of these new contacts. I threw away the contact from my right eye and put the new one in, no problem. Then, you know me, starting gabbing and just went about my business, put the left one in, and left.

The rest of the day I was still thinking, "Are you sure Doc? I really think there's something wrong with my left eye (the original problem and reason for the doctor visit)." I went through the day with my vision still blurry.

At one point in the afternoon I decided to take it out and put in back in again. Didn't fix it. Noticed that it looked like it wasn't fusing to my eye properly. Huh. Had my sister look at it. She confirmed it didn't look right (the contact, that is).

Last night when I was taking out my contacts I discovered that I was wearing three. One in the right and two in the left. Yep, never took the old one out before I put the new one in. Explains a lot.

And to add to my senility, as I walking out of school today, I reached in my purse to answer my phone and only then realized I had a hot pink post-it stuck to my boob. I wonder how long that magic had been happening.