1. Woke up late today.
2. Seriously considered getting busy with The Bean, but alas: no time (see line item #1).
3. Began contemplating whether or not we could find time to have a little “busy time” later today… but no, The Bean has an evening class…. maybe tomorrow morning? No… I work out tomorrow morning…. and I have plans tomorrow evening – besides, The Bean has another night class….. Maybe Wednesday morning…?….
4. Became seriously depressed at the thought that not only is my life so busy I have to “plan” something as fun and spontaneous as “busy time”… but I’m not even sure we do have time, even if we did plan it.
5. Got in the shower, pouting.
6. Couldn’t find the razor to shave my legs, which mean I wouldn’t be able to wear the business skirt I wanted to wear. Instead, I would have to wear my too-tight, too-high, kinda too-short in the legs “wow-I-look-like-a-mom” pants.
7. Considered not shaving and just taking a chance nobody would actually look at my legs today.
8. Looked down and saw the long, full forest of leg hair that currently adorns my leg undulate gently in the breeze.
9. Decided to go with the pants.
10. Stuffed myself into pants.
11. Stared morosely in the mirror. Ugh. Fat.
12. Drove to work.
13. Stopped to get coffee— Mmmm. Coffee. At least one thing went well, right?
14. Received a phone call from The Bean letting me know I had forgotten half of the parts to my pump at home, which means pumping will take twice as long.
15. Got to work.
16. Put things down at desk.
17. Immediately spilled 30 ounces of coffee all over my desk – watched in horror as 30 ounces became something like 425 bazillion ounces and covered everything in sight.
18. Galumphed Ran nimbly and lightly to the breakroom to get paper towels.
19. Spent 30 minutes cleaning. Congratulated myself that I managed to sop everything up without losing a single bit of electronics to the coffee madness.
20. Tried to begin work.
21. Realized that I did have one casualty – my keyboard, which once again decided it did not want to type the letter “t”.
22. Tried to fix keyboard.
23. End result: A keyboard that ONLY types the letter T. T. Ttt. TtTtttT. Pages and pages of TttttTTTtttttttttttttttTTTtttttttttttttttTTTttttttttttt.
24. Disconnected keyboard, opened laptop.
25. Look at the time: 9:30am. Only seven more hours to go.
26. Take a break, type up a post complaining about it, post it to blog.
27. Look at time: 9:46am. Back to work.

It’s the middle of the week, and both the Bean and I have just arrived home after yet another glorious day in California traffic.

As usual, The DragonMonkey is making loud, noisy laps around the house.

“Eeeeee! Hahahahahahahahah! Kick doggie! Hahahahahahaha! EEEE!!! EEE!!”

In a perfect, 1950s world I’d be donning my apron, patting my perfectly coiffed hair, and getting ready to lovingly prepare a healthy, nutritious, and delicious warm meal for my family.

Unfortunately for The Bean, this is 2011 and I ain’t no June Cleaver.

“Hey Bean,” I holler, trying to be heard over the racket the DragonMonkey is making. “Grab a hotdog out of the fridge for the DM. It’s dinner time.”

Hot dogs are considered healthy, delicious, and nutritious, right?

Please don’t answer that.

“We’ve only got one,” The Bean hollers back. “What else do we give him?”

“Ummmm…..” Let’s see… rice takes too long… I’ve cooked fish three times this week…. I did chips yesterday….. Ah-ha! “Applesauce. Give him some applesauce.”

There. Protein and fruit. Maybe it’s not a culinary masterpiece, but it’s gluten-free and filling. Yay for me.

From the living room, the Squidgelet begins to whimper quietly. Hello? Hello? Has everyone forgotten about me?

I flatten myself against the wall, preparing to push myself between the Bean and open refrigerator door and the narrow kitchen doorway so I can go pick him up.

Thoughtfully, the Bean shuts the door slightly, so I don’t have to actually suck in my flabby belly beautifully toned abs to squeeze past. I shoot him a smile, but he seems distracted.

As I scoot past him, I see the door jerk in my direction… once, twice… accompanied by a muted “Pa-choo! Pa-choo!”

I stop, and stare at the Bean incredulously.

“Did you…Did you just pretend to hit me with the refrigerator door? Complete with cartoony sound effects?”

The Bean flushes, and his eyes drop guiltily.

“Yeah.”

“Why? What on earth would make you do that?”

He shrugs like a teenager, still eyeing the floor guiltily. “I dunno. It just seemed like it would be fun. Like a videogame, or something.”

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Actual Excerpt from Gmail Chat:

Sigh.

They never grow up, do they?