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I started making a list of things I am looking forward to doing during vacation.
Umm, I think I have a problem. I prescribe immersion therapy. I can’t leave the beach until I crave shoes.
When I feel stressed, I apply more deodorant. If you see white, chalky stalactites hanging from my armpits, hand me chocolate and run away. I don’t want to admit that the stress level over here is up to 11, but I’m thinking of buying myself a 6-pack today. A 6-pack of clinical strength deodorant.
Once a day, I lie down in a horse trough wearing only my birthday suit. Horses lean over the side alone or in pairs and sloppily drink from the trough while I watch in horror and amazement. If anything is resting on the side of the trough, the horses knock it over so that it clonks me in the face. They lean over and give me giant slobbery kisses as an apology for the injury. When the horses have filled up on my water, they wander off, leaving a trail of water and paw prints. Suddenly, I am transported to an empty kiddie pool that Evan and Amy feel compelled to fill with toys. The toys are dropped, thrown and hurled at me from every direction. When there are so many toys that the water is no longer visible, the children’s clothes vanish and they jump into the toy filled pool. Once in the water, Evan demands a horse ride, drives cars up and down my legs and fights for whatever toy his sister holds in her hands. When I complain about the crowding and fighting, they switch tactics and gang up on me. Water becomes a weapon to spit, squirt and splash. This is the point when we realize that this is the bathtub and Doug is standing beside us complaining about the water dripping down into the basement and the noise we are making. Then, he gives me an evil eye and asks, “Why does it take you so long to a bath?” I telepathically answer him with words that I can’t post here.
Far more often than I would like, I wander around the room, staring at the ceiling. Sometimes I do this with a swiffer mop in my hand. I move slowly, my feet sliding instead of walking, while I stare, blankly at the ceiling. My children wander past and ignore me. Occasionally, one of them will mumble “have fun chasing squirrels” as they stomp away with something from the kitchen pantry. Today, I did my zombie squirrel hunt routine, but couldn’t find the source of the noise. Click, clack, ticka-ticka. I was certain that there was some destruction occurring that a few thwacks of the mop on the ceiling would cease. Ticka-ticka, click, clack. I was getting very frustrated, until, I found the source of the noise. Doug was broadcasting his nervous breakdown. Ignore the fact that he is breaking the rule of a happy marriage that only one partner can be crazy at a time. Instead, focus on the fact that he is accelerating my insanity by making noises like a squirrel eating the rafters. I may have to walk downstairs with a toy vw and punch him in the arm. Hard.
Natural disasters, wars, accidents, illnesses and George Bush. The news is too depressing to watch. I spent my day cleaning and the house is STILL too filthy for visitors. Doug made me a cake unlike any cake I have ever had before. I asked him to take all the children to Boy Scouts so I could have an hour to myself. I mopped the floors for that hour. Now, I’m out of my cleaning supplies. I’m tired. My hands smell like dust. I still don’t have Tommy’s graduation gift. Or food for Friday. At least I am not hysterical yet.
Pssst, thank you Jay!
Even though I called Zappos for help less than 5 minutes after putting an order on my credit card when I thought I was still setting up my account, the solution wasn’t what I expected. I naively asked them to cancel the order and let me make a new order. They said the credit was applied and everything would be fine. Their definition of fine is slightly different than mine. Nothing was canceled. The charge went through the bank this morning and the credit will be applied in 2 - 10 business days. I heard Doug’s reaction all the way upstairs, followed immediately by his Twitter reaction. This little experiment in online retailing was less than successful. Obviously, my shopping muscle has atrophied from non-usage. I think I’ll just crawl back in my cave and focus on the laundry and dishes for a while.
Since discovering the Zappos phenomenon on Twitter, I now see Zappos everywhere. In an uncharacteristic stroke of good fortune, Weary Parent and Zappos have given me the gift of new shoes. Since I haven’t had a new pair of shoes in a little over FIVE years, I am more than a little tempted to buy shoes for myself. After hours and hours of looking at the choices available, I narrowed it down to this pair and this pair. They are so pretty and I would really like to look nice for Tommy’s graduation, but my mom guilt is heavy. The more practical decision would be to get Tommy’s new boots. He needs shoes more than I do and after years of only wearing Birks, I probably wouldn’t be comfortable in real shoes anyway. On the other hand, or foot, Doug needs new sneakers. If Doug had new shoes, he might have the energy to paint a wall or mow the yard. New shoes for my guys would still be a gift to me. I think I’ll step away from the computer for a bit and order something tonight after the children are bathed and tucked in bed.
Update: Okay. My first online shoe shopping experience was very educational. I learned the hard way to use the Zappos search feature which allows you to search by size. If you don’t, you will find yourself choosing shoes that are available in every size except yours. Since Zappos doesn’t have a feature that allows you to compare three or four pairs in one window (feature request), I had about 16 tabs open on my computer. Oh, shut up. I didn’t even know that many different kinds of shoes existed. They carry brands that nobody offers in small town Tennessee. I stared at my choices for longer than I am willing to admit. Long enough that my “I’m almost 15″ year old read over my shoulder and saw what I was doing. I finally picked the shoes I want. At that exact moment, the teenager IM’d what she thought I should get with my gift credit. It took her less than 15 minutes to create a shopping list. I ordered the shoes for me AND a cute dress she chose. Now, she has something new to wear to her brother’s graduation. Then, I messed up. I absent-mindedly typed in my credit card number and clicked. Panic! Heart pounding, I searched for a way to fix my mistake, felt hysterics building and called the 800 number. After listening to Gladys Knight’s recorded intro and hearing the options which included Zappos joke of the day, a calm person answered the phone. I blithered gibberish, but he figured out what the problem was and fixed it instantly. Then, because I am a total moron who had to bother customer service after I messed up the online ordering that anyone else could have done effortlessly, they rewarded me with free overnight shipping. It has never paid to be stupid before. I guess George Bush really has changed the world. That was mean. I’m sorry. I blame it on the shopping high.
Me: “WHAT do you think you are doing?”
Doug: “Nothing. Just playing.”
Me: “No you aren’t. You’re looking for lumps.”
Doug: “Maybe. Is that a problem?’
Me: “Yes. It is very weird and it is not good foreplay.”
Doug: “Oh. Um, want some ice cream?”
When Doug buys deodorant, he looks for the cheapest product on the shelf. I ran out of my deodorant and Doug offered to grab something for me while he was out. Umm, no thank you. I eliminate everything on the shelf with the words “delicate” or “light” and look for the product that claims to be strongest. “Prescription” strength makes me so happy I giggle. If they marketed a deodorant toward professional athletes, that would get my attention. I really don’t want to be stinky. Also, if the product comes in twelve different scents, I am still picking the one that smells like nothing. I am trying to avoid odors, not add them. I would buy a deodorant that smells like soap. Soap is the only thing I want to smell like. I tried embracing the normal, natural smells of a human being when I was in college. I am pretty sure that one of the reasons college students spend so much consuming alcohol is to cope with women trying to find their place in the hierarchy of feminists. I don’t want to smell like armpits, feet, oily hair, musk or pear trees. I want to smell like soap or nothing. When someone develops an experimental laser procedure to eliminate armpit odors, call me. I will be a test subject for you. I was a test subject once before. I let a clinic use me to develop their baseline statistics and the result was that I got to see without glasses. If I’m willing to let someone laser my eyes, I’m not going to hesitate to offer my armpits. It’s for the good of science.
