Is there no end to my awesomeness? How’s that for a catch phrase! All jokes aside, I felt today, at many times, an urge to indulge a self proclamation of my bad-to-the bone-ness. The first was when my children and I ran for cover scarcely escaping an air raid from at least 3oo Canadian geese. If you don’t know, let me just say that during this time of year in Colorado any park or field is blanketed in pellets of….well, you know. So when you see them coming in their v-formation, you know to retreat quickly to the nearest shelter, play fort, whatever. So that’s what we did and were heroically spared. Medal of Awesomeness received.
A little later while picking up the house, I noticed, for the 272nd time since we’ve been here, my bed skirt laying on the floor…STILL. Despite my efforts to subtly suggest to Steve that we might at some point need to put it on the bed, I found myself tripping over it. In another moment of super power, I wrestled the new 300 pound Tempurpedic mattress all by myself and put that bad boy back where it belonged. Pay no mind to the torn bicep or the fact that I had to dig my way out of being all but buried alive between the foam and box. The point is, I conquered. Sometimes if you want things done (ah hem, MOST times), you have to tackle them yourself. In this case, the tackling was far more literal than expected.
Finally, in a faint moment of desperation, I resorted to a huge furniture super center, which also houses a Subway, to feed and entertain my children. They get a cookie and the chance to treat the bunk bed section as an obstacle course and I allow myself to look at all different types of decor and arrangements. For those of you who don’t know, I have a little knack for interior decorating. I actually don’t know how I got it because we didn’t have furniture growing up. Seriously, we didn’t. My Dad would buy, let’s say, a new couch (which took an average of 3 years to decide upon and execute purchase), and then he’d be over it and purchase nothing else. We never had like a fully furnished room, that I can remember. Right, mom?
That being said, a Futon is going in the basement at some point because the crazy kids who accompanied me on the shopping trip demonstrated that an area for solitary confinement will be necessary on this grand journey. Thank you Jesus for our basement.
And now, I’m retiring to bed. I’m exhausted and looking forward to more work training, fulfilling my volunteer requirement at the preschool. Wait…volunteer “requirement”. Isn’t that like an oxymoron? That’s another post, I guess. This is life and we are living it….goose poop and all.