Saturday, January 26, 2008

Give Me the Simple Life

Let me start off by saying, my day would kick your day's ass, ANY day of the week. Typically, I am up at 4am, while the irish twins and hubby are still snoring away.

I dread heading into the den, cleaning up whatever random snackings my husband left on the desk after a late night of World of Warcraft (But baby, I am an engineer. I need superb motor skills and lighting fast reflexes. WOW is really just work to me, but I do it for us, to better myself at work, to get a promotion and make more money). And seriously, the man drinks milk with everything. Beef jerky, dorritos, skittles, the disgusting list goes on and on. Maybe this annoys me because I am a freak about milk (MUST be freezing cold in a glass of ice, only served with cookies or cake), either way, he drinks it out of my favorite Moroccan glasses from our wedding registry, and never quite finishes it. So by morning, I am greeted with some stinky yellow curded yuckiness in my beautiful amber glassware.

Then what follows is a blur of laundry, cleaning, dishes, vacuuming, food prep, exercise ( and by this I mean not exercising and reading Blah, tiring.

Around 8:30ish, I am greeted by my half sleeping hubby, handing me two diaper soaked boys, before he stumbles back upstairs to bed.

This is my routine. Nothing glamorous.

Every so often, my day is spiced up by an occasion low grade fever followed by projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhea, but those gems are few and far between.

Today was business as usual, except that hubby had an early appointment, and couldn't find his keys. He started to get a little frantic about it, which makes his normal level headed tone skyrocket into what can only be likened to as that of a screeching monkey, or maybe Six from that old show Blossom. I asked to help like ten times, but nope, he was fine, he is a grown man who can find his own keys. Which is funny, because we BOTH know he could probably find Carmen Sandiago before he could find my bra strap at night, but whatever Kimmy Gibbler, keep ripping the house apart and throwing your 10 year old girl tantrum.

This hilarity continued for like 30 minutes. And in the end. I found the keys. They were outside. In his car.

So there is that.

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