I know I shouldn't.
I know it's not the most appropriate reaction.
But it's this or start day drinking, and I reserve that for Christmas holidays and camping.
We got the littles a hamster for Christmas 2014, and everyone has been mildly surprised that he's stuck around this long. That is no longer an issue. This morning, I sent Squid to feed him, and he discovered that Spot no longer requires earthly sustenance. Manna from pet heaven will do just fine.
He managed to keep it together quite well, which I was pretty impressed by- Squiddy wears his heart on his sleeve, and his emotions are always just waiting to bubble to the surface. He did so beautifully, in fact, that I forgot he was in the room.
I didn't want to touch the thing.I'm sure it died of old age, but since I am not a veterinarian, I can't be 100% certain he didn't die of Ebola, or Norwalk Virus, or Other-People's-Foot-And-Butt-Germ Disease. I grabbed a few Safeway bags, doubled them up, removed the top half of the cage, and dumped the contents of the bottom half (one of which was a hamster that looked as though it was pretty surprised to die- legs all akimbo, eyes way too wide open and all stare-ey) into the bag.
And I heard Squid gasp.
Cue the hysteria.
Once she noticed that Squid was crying, Eva (who never misses an opportunity for a REALLY GOOD MELTDOWN) immediately joined in, using her best high pitched sob. (I didn't mind so much- it's gratifying sometimes to see her imitate human emotions.) "I just loved having something to LOOOOOOOOVE" sobbed Squid, in a (totally successful) bid to get me to go get another rodent.
That's the exact moment (the same one as the one where we're supposed to be walking out the door with the dayhome kids to leave for the school, by the way) that Isaiah chose to call me to inform me that there was something wrong with his truck and he was stranded in Airdrie. I won't tell you here what my response was, but the end result was that he chose to try to find someone in Airdrie that would be willing to help him and would call me back to let me know when he was on his way.
I gave up on the idea of walking, piled my kids and dayhome kids into the minivan, ran my own two (slightly less hysterical) children to school, hit PetSmart with the dayhomies to buy a replacement animal (they have great taste- we now own the least offensive of the four available gerbils), and headed back home.
On the way there, I called Jason to update him- unwisely ending the conversation with the phrase "My day can only go up from here!!!!!!!!" (Those who know me well can hear the Apocalypse Now soundtrack starting up in the background. It's basically the kiss of death.)
When I got back home, Isaiah was back, and in the process of replacing the battery and clamps in the Durango in my parking spot, so I handed him the new rat and accessories, and backed out onto the street to park my van. And heard *that* noise.
My husband's new truck.
With my new van.
Isaiah came flying over, and stared at me like I'd lost my everlovin' mind. I was starting to giggle, and he looks at the (not entirely insubstantial) dents in both vehicles and says "Dad's not going to be amused."
Nope. He's not. I figured if I could call him and explain it in a way that would make him see the irony in the situation, he'd be way less irritated, so when he picked up the phone, I used my super peppy voice.
Me: "Hey! There's two ways I can start this conversation! I can either tell you about the accident I just had with the van, or I can tell you who was the very first person to hit your truck!"
Me: (Muffles giggles.) "You there?"
Jason: "What does that mean? Is everyone ok?"
Me: (Begins to lose shit entirely and starts to chortle.) "Yep, but I just backed my van into your truck."
Jason: "Which truck?"
Me: (Starting to do wheezy laugh, tears begin to roll down my face.) "The new truck."
Jason: "MY new truck? Is this a joke?"
Me: (No longer able to hold myself upright without the aid of the counter.) "Nope, but seriously, my day can only go up from here!"
Jason: "^#%$&*()!@*^$%#$&^!)__!@&$&^&$!)(*_)@&$% &^&()$ )@&^@$&%& $!_( * @^!$&)@ &*!%$*) &!^_(%*&_(! @&(%^*)&!@ %$&*()!@*^$%#$&^!)__!@&$&^&$!)(*_)@&$% &^&()$ )@&^@$&%& $!_( * @^!$&)@ &*!%$*) &!^_(%*&_(! @&(%^*)&!@%$&*()!@*^$%#$&^!)__!@&$&^&$!)(*_)@&$% &^&()$ )@&^@$&%& $!_( * @^!$&)@ &*!%$*) &!^_(%*&_(! @&(%^*)&!@^" (Censored)
That man has no sense of humour. Clearly, the kids get theirs from me.
I'm pretty sure he's laughing on the inside.
|Less Dead Spot|