If I could guarantee I'd be one of those wearing floppy sun hats while driving my convertible with the top down in the middle of winter, dancing in the fountain at the downtown plaza kind of crazy people, I would gladly welcome insanity. Unfortunately, it's more likely I'll end up one of those haven't taken a shower in eight months, walking up and down main street with my hands clasped together while shouting vulgarities at passing school children kind. If it comes to that, I blame this:
Exhibit A: the ugly coffee table.
Big V had this table before I moved in. Yes, it's real wood. That's about the only thing it has going for it.
He's never used a coaster. So there are water marks every where. And dog scratches. And random Sharpie marks because he never quite got the whole "it bleeds through" concept. It's not pretty. And it's huge. Plus, it's round. And I despise round. Unless it's a chocolate mousse pie. Then round is okay. I prefer right angles. There are not enough right angles on this piece of furniture.
Big V does not care for the table but for some reason he can't bring himself to actually get rid of it. For years it sat banished in the end room of the basement. A room no one ever goes in. Then it moved to sitting next to the chest freezer, which we won't talk about because someone left the freezer door open and we lost half a cow. Which is a lot of meat. That smells bad after its been thawing for a few days. Anyway, now the round table is in the garage next to the lawnmower. Because every piece of furniture you love and can't imagine parting with deserves a spot in the garage. Why is this thing still at our house?
Exhibit B: the office refrigerator
I work where they keep a basket full of take out condiments and 12-pounds of butter in the fridge. This alone would drive a person batty.
Exhibit C: the traveling toothpaste
I never taught my child how to brush her teeth. She does THIS. This is not okay. No amount of asking nicely, reminding, yelling, screaming, public humilation has taught her that THIS is not okay. And so, I have gathered up all the toothpaste in the house and carry it with me. Right now the baggie of paste is resting comfortably on the passenger seat of my car. Because my sixteen year old daughter doesn't know how to brush her teeth without grossing out the entire family. I now ration out toothpaste. Do you see how close insanity is for me?
Exhibit D: the crutches
Dotter has a ruptured bursa sac. It's something on your knee that isn't supposed to be ruptured, therefore, she is in a lot of pain. It's hard for her to actually bend her knee since it's quite swollen. Yesterday, two seconds before the ortho doc walked into the exam room she exploded in the most massive sob storm I've seen in a long time. Why, you ask? Because she wanted to be "cleared" to ride the rides at the county fair. (It was wristband night, after all.) Thank all that is good and wonderful - he cleared her for the fair rides! This meant that I got to walk around with her all day long so she would have someone to hold her crutches while she was standing in line and hobbling up to whatever ride we just waited twenty minutes for. Did I mention it was all day long? Also, she couldn't hold anything else when she was using her crutches. So I became a human pack mule. Lugging around Lemonade Shake-Ups and Funnel Cakes.
As if that wasn't fun enough, the Bean was also at the fair with a gaggle of her girl friends. She kept calling to try to ask me nicely/cry/threaten/hate me into giving her money. Which, I am proud to report, I did not give her. I am under no obligation to throw money at a kid who quit her summer job because it interfered with her social plans and still can't figure out how to clean the bathroom sink, even though I've asked nicely/cried/threatened/hated.
If you need me, I'll be swimming in the fountain at the plaza.