We’re long past the point of worrying what the neighbors might think. By now they know our household is comprised of crazy people, fearlessly led by yours truly.
Still, I’d prefer to think no one was awake, or at least looking out the window earlier this morning. Our garbage container is in the driveway, just on the outside of the fence. When I took the trash out I was horrified, but not surprised, when the gate slammed shut behind me, locking me out of my yard…and barring the route to the unlocked back door. It was with little hope that I walked round to the front door, clad in black pajama bottoms, red t-shirt, bright orange and blue striped socks (with platform sandals), and a white apron that reads “Pancakes Not Prisons!” on the front of it. But no one heard me at the door. No one in my house anyhow. A few weeks ago someone stole the batteries out of our doorbell and we haven’t replaced them yet. So rather than freezing to death on my front steps, while so outlandishly dressed, I decided to cut through our neighbor’s yard, hop our shared fence and trudge up the hill to the back door. Naturally the guys didn’t even notice I’d been gone. Unless you count the little man’s question, asking me why his pancakes weren’t ready yet.
Thankfully Mimi Smartyparts gave me a much needed laugh, as she so often does:
Also feeling guilty: For calling my daughter “McFly,” when she was looking for a certain toy and it was right behind her, and I was sitting there saying, “Behind you. Behind you. Turn…no. Behind you,” while she spun in disoriented toddler-esque circles. Finally I got frustrated and blurted, “Hello! McFly! BEHIND YOU,” and there is no way she got the reference but it was still not very nice, and I felt bad.
Today, more chores, errand running and possibly a visit to the ‘burbs. Oh my exciting life. Tomorrow night, out to dinner to celebrate Big Dave’s birthday. I can only imagine the kind of chaos the little man will cause.