I wrote this before I left but decided to not post it until I got home. Enjoy.
I hate getting out of town more than anything in this world. I don’t mind being out of town, but getting out is tricky. If you have kids, you know what I’m talking about especially if you have a husband that is exactly no help at all.
One of the things that I loved (past tense) about Zeb is his spontaneity. I’m the one who created packing lists and was packed at least one week before any trip. When Zeb and I first got together he proposed a spontaneous trip to a hot spring. As in let’s go now.
This got me out of my comfort zone in a really good way. I watched him “pack” by spreading his robe onto the bed, toss onto it a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant rock, a heel of cheese and some crackers and roll it up tight. It went into the back of the car and we were gone.
That was fun then but now we have kids and that type of free-form packing doesn’t cut it unless we want to pay $30 for shitty sunscreen at a Mexican resort. As the kids get bigger, packing isn’t as important as when they were infants, but I detest the idea of buying something I already have but left at home.
So I’m packing and it’s snowy and the kids are trapped in the house and very excited. This manifests as them being full of manic energy and asking me when we are leaving. At least once a minute. Never mind that we aren’t leaving for three days.
Last night Testiclese got pissed off at me because he said We’re leaving tomorrow! and I said No we aren’t. We’re leaving on Tuesday and today is Saturday. and he said But yesterday you told me that we are leaving tomorrow! and I said If that was true than we would be gone today because today is yesterday’s tomorrow. and he said But you told me we were leaving tomorrow! and I said You must have misunderstood me. and he said No I didn’t. You said tomorrow! and I said You’re the one who never knows what day of the week it is. I think it’s fair to say I have a better grasp of the DAY OF THE WEEK than you. and he said But you said we are leaving tomorrow so we are leaving tomorrow! and I got down to his level, looked him straight in the eye and said, “Do I have your attention? We are not leaving until Tuesday. Today is Saturday. We are leaving in three days. It doesn’t matter what you think I said, we are leaving when our ticket says we leave. Tuesday.” and left the room.
This is my life right now. That’s why I hate going out of town.
So this morning Zeb and I went to the store and I told him that we need to gas up the car because my grocery store points are going to expire when we are gone and I want to take advantage of the $1 discount on gas. He’s all, “It’s too bad your tank isn’t dry.” and I was all, “I know. Bummer.”
Then he turned into a six year-old and was like, “Can we use it for both cars?” and I was like, “Maybe if you pulled up behind me and we gassed yours without holstering the nozzle in between.” and he was like, “So it’s a one-time deal, then you lose the discount?” and I was like, “Yes, to the best of my knowledge.” and he’s all, “Well that’s stupid.” and I’m like, “I don’t make the rules” and he’s like, “Is the discount good for as much gas as you can use in one filling? What if you have a 100 gallon tank?” Which is when I detonated.
HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW?!? DO YOU HAVE A 100 GALLON TANK? DO I LOOK LIKE THE KING SOOPERS EXEC THAT CAME UP WITH THE REWARDS SYSTEM? JUST GAS THE FUCKING CAR!!!
And all calmly he said, “You don’t have to be defensive.”
Seriously, if you want me to DO EVERYTHING to get ready for this trip then you can’t question everything I do. Yes, it makes me irritable. And when I get irritable, I get really yelly.
Time to cut the crap.
Today Zeb and I flipped the 3rd floor apartment because we have a new guest coming today. The couple that just left are of the Costco variety. They stock up at a big box store for one week. And there was only two of them. They left sooo much food behind, which I’m going to eat.
I decided it was time to delve into some hidden closets.
This closet is more of a crawl space where mice go to poop. It’s full of empty boxes and crap. I emptied it out.
Jelly jars and X-mas ornaments. DONATE.
I won’t be needing these anymore. It looks like I never needed them. I’m giving them to Kiki.
This is a bag of massagers and oils I took with me when I gave birth to Scrotus. They always tell you to pack your bag with stuff like this to help you through labor. Of course they were never used. Who has time for massages when you are laboring? I hate to be cliché about it, but who needs massage oil when you can have an epidural? Don’t get me started. DONATE.
I kept baby gear in the apartment for visiting guests with children. Aside from the high-chair and the pack-n-play, the stuff didn’t get used. I’m giving it to Kiki. This was not in the mouse poop closet, BTW.
Boxes for a computer and a breast pump I no longer have. RECYCLE.
All this stuff, gone.
Featured image courtesy of http://cheezburger.com/6577639424