A couple of mornings ago, I was in bed with C, coaxing her into wakefulness, trying to ease her past the fearful monster she can become if jolted too harshly out of sleep. My oldest son, F,, came into the room and said,
F: "Mom, I have two things to tell you. First, I don't have a single pair of clean pants." (Holds up dirty pants from yesterday to demonstrate the sorry state of his laundry)
Me: (in classic standard motherese): Well, you know I think you're getting old enough to take a little responsibility for what you wear. You'll just have to go through the laundry basket and get something that's only a little bit dirty (blah blah blah)..
F: (unperturbed) And the second thing is, there's a gopher head on the couch.
Coco (yes, for God's sake I'll tell you the real name of our cat! I'm starting to tire of all the single letter names, frankly, and I'm sure anyone who might have occasion to read this is too), I guess, has recently decided that the right and proper place to eat gophers is the sofa in the living room. I guess it's cozier than the floor, sort of a kitty Ritz dining room. She has dined out in style a couple of times this week. Speaking of which, does anyone know how to get blood out of a sofa cushion? I think the current state of our sofa would be a little alarming to any guests we haven't already scared away, and you can only turn a bloody cushion over twice before you're out of luck.
I'm putting off going to work this morning, because my poor head is spinning with all the different designs I'm trying to juggle, knowing full well I should be focusing on the one that's due at the end of the year. However. I've been told I don't need to panic because everything is running behind. And I do need to design these other rooms because the project designer needs to know what the room looks like before he can move forward with fabric and furniture and etc etc. But I'm panicking anyway, because that's just what I do.
We're trying to figure out vacation plans for the summer, but I'm waiting for the test date for my contractor's license, and I suspect it will fall right in the middle of when we are supposed to be gone. And I've barely started studying yet! Hahahahaha! I've been fingerprinted and everything. The FBI knows what every single one of my fingerprints looks like, in excruciating detail. I went to a real police station and everything. They even had cells, but as far as I could tell no one was in them. Except I guess I will be now, if I ever commit a crime, because the authorities totally know everything about my fingerprints. I had gotten a speeding ticket a couple of days before I went in (late to karate lessons, my first ticket in probably 15 years), and I was all nervous it would come up on my record and they wouldn't let me get my painting contractor's license. If I worry about this, does it mean I'm not actually cut out for a life of crime?