I haven’t forgotten I have a blog. I’m just lazy.
What’s going on in the news? I haven’t really been paying attention. There was that global warming conference in Copenhagen. ::SNORE:: I guess President Obama finally picked up his Peace Prize, too. I wonder where he ended up putting it. Maybe he’s using it as a paperweight in the Oval Office. You know, since he doesn’t have a Grammy yet. (Or does he?)
That wasn’t some kind of sneaky back-handed diss at the president, incidentally. I was just thinking, as I was reading this bit about Pres. Obama declining to have lunch with King Harald, that if I were Pres. Obama, I would be annoyed about this Nobel Prize thing. I mean, it’s not like he asked for them to give him one. I think the whole business has been embarrassing for him, not to mention disappointing. Insofar as a Nobel Prize means anything, wouldn’t you prefer to get one that you “earned” rather than one that was just given to you for breathing? Again, if I were the president, I would be like, “Woah, slow down, kids–I know it’s awesome that I got elected, but you wanna pace yourselves if you’re gonna handle the awesomeness of the next four years.” He’s also probably thinking, “Dude, I’m already President of the United States, I won the Nobel Peace Prize–by the time I actually DO anything, there won’t be any means left to acknowledge it.” That’s got to be depressing.
For the record, I think he just skipped lunch with the King because he was too busy, but if it turns out that it was some kind of passive-aggressive thing, I totally understand that, and I’m cool with it.
At the same time, how sad is it that they put up a cardboard cutout of him at that one event? Is it sad, or is it a little bit awesome? Is it passive-aggressive, Norwegian style? I don’t know, but I personally like it a lot.
In local news, Girlfriend is on her eighth consecutive day of toilet-learning. She has pooped in the potty on at least three separate occasions, which indicates that it will eventually become a habit and not just a beautiful memory for me to trot out as I scrub fecal matter out of her Thomas the Tank Engine underpants for the fifty billionth time. On the other hand, she is still mostly dependent on me to tell her when she has to use the toilet. It’s not that difficult–she has this very distinctive dance that she does…sometimes. Other times she just stands still and looks down to where all the urine is pooling. But, you know, it’s better than a kick in the head.
In honor of the Norwegians, I’m having my own passive-aggressive moment as I slouch toward Housekeeper Day (Wednesday). I don’t know how it happens–well, I know how it happens; I guess I don’t know how I’m always surprised at how it always happens–but sometime last week the house went from being somewhat in disarray to being A FREAKING DISASTER AREA PLEASE KILL ME NOW. Seriously, one moment=somewhat in disarray, and the Very Next Moment=FREAKING DISASTER KILL ME NOW!!! For some reason, when this happens, I always spend a couple days moping about it, even though I know that on Saturday, my husband will insist that we clean out some closets and move EVEN MORE STUFF onto the floors. It’s my own fault, so whatever. (On the plus side, our sons’ closet–you know, the one that is invisible when you CLOSE THE DOOR ON IT–looks very nice.)
So this morning I had a nervous breakdown and very nearly couldn’t drive Mister Bubby to school because so great was the mental anguish of waking up to the !DISASTER! that is my house, but drive MB to school I did, and I came back home and threw everything that was on the floors into cardboard boxes and taped them up and they’re all lined up neatly in my living room right now. They can easily be vacuumed around. In fact, I may do that myself, just for giggles. It’s not as though we won’t be crushing plenty more Goldfish into the carpet between now and Wednesday. I was a little bit sane about it, I think; I did not throw any shoes, library books, juice cups or wet underpants into the boxes (other dirty laundry was, of course, fair game). And my husband should be pleased because none of this stuff went into his precious garage or closets. In fact, I had to take boxes out of the garage in order to fill them up in here, so it’s a net gain for him. Win-win-win.
While I was cleaning off the kitchen counters (so much easier when you’ve regained your will to live), I came across a tin of Ginger Spice Muffin Mix that I think was intended to be a gift to someone else about…a year ago. I decided that whoever was supposed to have it probably didn’t want it, so I just broke down and made the muffins myself. I just ate one and…eh. I know, what do I expect from year-old muffin mix? Well, honestly, it doesn’t have that year-old muffin mix taste; it’s more of a “really, this is it?” flavor. On the plus side, it’s off my counter and the house smells nice, but I have a muffin tin to clean now, so…win-win-lose.
And now, the dishes. I shall probably not get around to Christmas shopping until Thursday. Wish me luck, gentle readers. Au revoir.