Whoa, I, uh, hadn't realized I hadn't posted since before New Year's. Well, let me catch you up on the past few weeks, then!
1. My hair is now red(dish)! And not at all Annie-like! And I have no idea why I was so scared -- FOR YEARS -- to color my hair. I foresee this being the beginning of a lifelong undertaking.
2. My children had been sick, sick, sick. Snotfest: The Snottening IV-type shit. They were really sneaky about it, too; like, I'd be all dressed for work, and I'd wipe their wee noses, immediately give them hugs goodbye, and it wouldn't be until I'd be stepping into a meeting later that morning that I realized my shoulders looked as if Slimer from Ghostbusters has been gently nuzzling me. Professional! The worst part was Lo getting a double ear infection and Mystery Virus/Flu of Doom, which involved a temperature of 105.5 (One! Hundred! And! Five! Point! Five!) while we freaked out. Verily. Happily, she made a quick recovery, and the snotfest left our house. Huzzah!
3. I made a (superquick) trip to Atlanta to visit Ali and finally meet her fabled kids. I quickly won them over with my superior bubble letter skills and some candy; Nerds, specifically, should you, personally, be looking to bribe the Martell children for their love using sugary treats. Slynnro and Kristin also came to town a bit later, and we spent an all-too-brief day together, spotting uncanny Snooki lookalikes, hanging out, and generally being thrilled to see each other, even if it was for such a short time.
Oh, and also? Surviving the craaaaaazy blizzard that struck Atlanta. Did I say "blizzard"? My bad, I meant QUARTER-INCH OF SNOW. I just...well, from the freaked-out way Atlanta acted, you'd forgive me for assuming a blizzard had hit. The highlight, for me, was attempting to take a cab back to the hotel from Ali's place, only to find that the cab wouldn't, uh, start. I'm unclear as to why he turned the car off in the first place, but regardless, there I was, stuck in a stalled taxi at the bottom of a quiet street in suburban Atlanta with a cab driver cursing and weeping in Russian. ("Why this happen to me? In middle of fockink blizzard?!")
A stalled taxi, whose engine, might I add, the driver WAS NOT HELPING by repeatedly trying to turn over without giving it a rest, thus flooding the engine, thus filling the quiet street in suburban Atlanta with a sound akin to that of a cat being tortured. (And OH BELIEVE YOU ME, I am familiar with The Stalling Issue, having spent my formative driving years at the wheel of a dilapidated, battleship-sized blue station wagon that was almost as old as I was. Its name was Old Blue. Unoriginal, yes, but fitting.)
Miraculously, the engine finally started ("I will walk home! I live two miles away, and it is BEAUTIFUL NIGHT, peaceful like baby!" he had told me.), and off we went, into the snow, with both front windows opened. And really, I was just so grateful to be en route that I suffered in (shivery) silence as we fishtailed our way down the road.
4. I arrived home after the trip to discover a toilet in our bedroom.
And not some symbolic, metaphorically overwrought toilet, if that's what you were thinking:
Yes, that is cement next to it, and no, I am not outing myself or J as a hoarder. Rather, we are currently undergoing some renovations to our bathrooms, and HAHAHAHA as it turns out, in an apartment? With no real extra space? And two little kids running around? The only good/safe place for a toilet? Is in our bedroom. HAHAHHAAAAA OH I WEEP. The only way I'm dealing with this, naturally, is by calling it Sir Terlet. I figured if the thing has a fancy nickname (and possibly a top hat? And monocle?), it cannot drive me mad. Because, hey, there it is! A toilet! Next to the bed!