Join Me in Snarkville

As you may remember, I used to work. Um, let me rephrase to something that will not give Prince a heart attack.  I used to work for OTHER people.  In fact I had quite a few jobs back in the day.  You know, when I was young and not old and decrepit like I am now.  In fact, some of those various jobs had REALLY bad vacation schedules and worse pocilies around time off.

Now, you have to know that I’m a FIRM believer in time off.  Heck, I ran away from the real world to begin my own business all about helping people with their time off.  I am a fan.  I believe that Americans do not take enough time off for themselves in a given year; I think this leads to more stress; more therapy; and more over eating.  I’ve even been known to have a metal health day or four in my life.

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I’m going to assume that you are all tired of hearing about my new love affair with my robot. I’m seriously loving the clean floors, the automatic nature of setting him loose and coming back to a cat hair, dust bunny free world, except when he escapes and eats a sock. It is so different than anything I could imagine. But alas, I must be boring you with all of that nonsense.

So, I bring you, ‘Postal Revenge,’ a new low chapter in the book that is Frankenhouse and all that Frankenhouse has to offer.

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Have I mentioned lately that I pink, puffy heart my robot? Well, I do. Thus far, he has cleaned my living room, kitchen, Duke’s room, and the hall. I gave him Sunday off — after all it is the day of rest, right? I’m working on getting the rest of the rooms in the house robot ready. Anyway…

This morning, I set the (still nameless robot*) off on his duties to clean the living room again. Now, the robot is supposed to stay in the room and do his thing. I went to work and came back upstairs about an hour later. I still heard the robot working, but I COULD.NOT.FIND.HIM!!! Utoh, my robot was LOST. I wondered where he’d gotten off to. I followed his whir of the vacuum — and I found him in my laundry room. He had broken through his virtual wall and ESCAPED.

Not that I’m upset mind you that he decided he had enough of the living room and went off to explore rooms in greater need of his, um, skills. However, I had not robot proofed the room yet. Let’s just say, laundry room moved up the list — since the robot must want to clean in there pretty badly.  The absolute worst part of it was that I actually said (OUTLOUD): “Hey, what are you doing in here?  You don’t belong in here.”  What exactly did I expect him to do?  Beep his apologies and scurry out and back to the living room where he belongs?

Also note: In addition to the cat hair, carpet fuzz and other gunk the robot ate today, he also ate one of Duke’s socks. Don’t worry, I got him to throw it back up before I had to call sock posion control (it was a dirty sock after all).

*Yes, he’s still nameless — I’ve only been able to decide that the robot is male. I can’t quite figure him out, thus he must be a guy.

Sidenote: Ahem, it takes great skill to begin with a side note. If you are reading this via a reader, I suggest you pop on over and check out the site — I made some noteable updates. Big thanks to db who provides my personal tech support. He’s really good and barely laughes when I take the whole site down because of a newbie error and call him.

Now onto the important updates of the weekend thus far.

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Yes, it is that time again for the sappy post on all the things I’m thankful for. We will have to be waiting for a bowling update, which includes more hours of practice in the alley, a new ball, and other fun. We will also be holding off on a serious discussion of what treasure means to a 3 year old. And finally, we will not be discussing any cat puke (because I know you love it when I do).

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Does anyone even remember me mentioning that I had a photo to share? A photo of Duke from Halloween? Do we remember that there WAS Halloween?

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One might argue that there are more things I don’t get than things I do, but I counter with a simple, “I’m a bright girl; I’m capable of lots of things…however, this (whatever this is at the time) is just whack.”  (Note, cleaver use of slang you will never ACTUALLY hear come out of my mouth until it has been dead for 10+ years.  I’m cool like that.)

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I hope it comes as no shock to you that I have certain areas where I’m truly comfortable. Certain worlds where I come alive and shine. Ok, so there are certain places where I totally dominate the room because I’m an obnixous, over-bearing bitch with no concern for the opinions or theories of others. Oh, gee I really hope the last one is the over statment I mean it to be, lest I really need to sit down and examine my complete lack of social skills.

Amoung these “in my element” places are NOT car repair locations NOR a bowling alley.

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Duke is sick. He came home from school with a low grade fever and a cough yesterday. We did what every normal set of parents do in this situation:

1. Blame the school. After all they have kids with actual GERMS — how dare they?
2. Feel sorry for ourselves that one of us (read: ME) will spend the day watching over a child who will be sick for all of 5 more minutes, yet the rules of school say: Fever = 24 break from YOUR kid.
3. Re-arrange my whole day, with much complaining, and try on my tiarra from the Martyr of the Year Award.

What? Oh, you know you would do the EXACT same thing.

Anyway, Prince and I were taking Duke to the bathroom in prep for bed and heard the most horrible coughing sound come from my child. It wasn’t HUMAN, I tell you. Horrible.

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My Dear Friends,

I sit before you this morning, exhusted and potentially at a new low in my own personal growth.  While I could completely attribute this to my mere 2 hours of sleep and lack of shower and coffee thus far, you have come to know me well enough that I will not.  Instead I will take this time to continue my efforts to make you feel better about yourselves in comparison.

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