Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Making A List...Ignoring It Twice

I must make a list for myself tonight, lest I forget something
vitally important:

Put #2 son's bottle of water for lunch in the freezer.

Wrap #1 son's gift for his little girlfriend so he can take it to school.

Wash the dishes.

Put labels on the tins of Chex Mix for #2's teachers.

Give Mabel a refill on the Chex Mix. She returned the container.

Lay out clothes for both boys for tomorrow.
Methinks the above task requires launching a load of laundry.

Avoid HH, who is in a Grinchy mood tonight.

Sign #2's planner.

Write a Christmas card for an old friend. Gilshi is her name-o.
(Not really. That was her log-in at the umemployment office.)

Send a note to a fallen comrade who sent me a Christmas card.
(Mabel, does the phrase "Stab it! STAB IT!" ring a bell?)

Clean out my book bag so it doesn't weigh more than my child.

Carry in secret thingies from large SUV after family is snoozing.

Clean my office. A Herculean task.

Seriously. My office is so full of clutter that it looks like a place
where one of those 'collector' people live. You know the type.
The little old lady with 87 cats, and papers and envelopes and
doilies and afgans and a couple of walkers strewn throughout
the house. Or the 50ish, never-married, polyester-pants-wearing
virginal comb-over-coiffed man who may have Mama mummified
down in the basement, but you'd never know it because there
are stacks of magazines from 1912 lining every spare inch of
floor space, including the steps to Mama's tomb, plus old pizza
boxes and two-liter Sam's Choice soda bottles and TV dinner
plastic trays and maybe some metal ones, too, from back in the
70s, and a poster of Morgan Fairchild on the bedroom wall,
but you can't get to the bedroom, either, which is just as well,
because the bed is covered with black plastic trash bags of
socks, because the guy will only wear a pair once, and then
throw them away, but he can't bear to part with them, so he
umm...collects them. Yeah. It's that messy. I'll get right on that
job. MmmHmmm. (Said in the manner of Billy Bob Thornton
in Sling Blade.)

I don't know why I'm still typing. Clearly, I have enough to
keep me busy. This screen is just so mesmerizing. I could sit
here all night gazing at the little blinking cursor. Curse you,
Cursor! I have things to do!

Perhaps I'll share some 10th grade poetry with you tomorrow.
Perhaps not. It seems that I've dangled this carrot before, but
the plan did not live to fruition. What kind of word is that,
anyway? Fruition. Nobody talks like that, do they, in real life?

Methinks not.


LanternLight said...

two-liter Sam's Choice soda bottles

I wish we had a Sam's Club over here. They'd have to fix all that non-english spelling first though :-)

(Not really. That was her log-in at the umemployment office.)

On the IBM "Big Iron", we used to assign user id's by initials. For some reason, user DUM complained.

deadpanann said...

Avoid HH, who is in a Grinchy mood tonight.

So that's how you do it? I have this habit of trying to pat mine on the head while repeating "Are you okay? Is there anything I can do? Do you need something?" and frankly it's getting old.

Don't worry about your tenth grade poetry carrot. I dangled the 8th grade poetry carrot and it didn't come to fruition on my blog either, because I was too disorganized to ever make it home with them. I think I graded them eventually.

R2K said...

: )

Anonymous said...

What did your son get his little girlfriend? I'm always intrigued by the gift-giving habits of kids.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Perhaps you could shop at my mother's favorite store: Ye Olde Expired Food Shoppe. She swears by the Ranch Dressing.

Hehe! I don't know what the deal was, but this log-in was on something my buddy who was retired from the Air Force called a 'dummy linked to a mainframe in Jefferson City'. It was to computers as Pong is to video games. You're welcome for that lesson in analogies. Hillbilly Mom: educatin' the world one person at a time.

Miss Ann,
Why ain't you a-helpin' me educate?

I have found that playing keep-away keeps me sane. I'm not so good at catering to the lord of the mansion. We are like oil and water sometimes.

I'll post them one of these days. They turned out well, methinks.


Last year (same girlfriend) it was Bratz. This year, in 6th grade, it was jewelry, a rectangular sparkley pendant with 3 pairs of earrings. Wal*Mart crystal jewelry, $4.97. Little wooden box, $2.97. A little girl's joy...priceless. He said she put it on right there at school, and told kids all day, "Look what #1 got me!"

We didn't want her to think she had to get him anything. I told him to write her a note, but he said she declares that she can't read his writing. I agree. He's a lefty, and not so much for the penmanship. Here was the note: "Please do not get me anything. I wanted you to have this. Written by Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, because #1 says you can't read his writing."

I had wanted to include "Because a pretty girl needs pretty things" but he wouldn't let me.

LanternLight said...

Perhaps you could shop at my mother's favorite store: Ye Olde Expired Food Shoppe.

We do have stores like that, and I don't shop there.

Hillbilly Mom said...

I with she didn't, either.

Stewed Hamm said...

Fruition is a good word. It's no "Threshold," but very few words are.