While I was on that trip I mentioned to Colorado Springs, my husband took a week off work and stayed home with the kids.
Here’s a text conversation we had near the end of that week:
I think he might have learned to appreciate me a little bit.
As evidenced by the state of my couch in my previous post, I’m in the market for some new furniture.
So here’s how that went:
She came back with a key and led me out the back door, across the snow-packed lot, past a dumpster, and then into a warehouse crammed full of mismatched furniture with red tags.
I do believe I have found myself something I can afford, I thought!
Confession: I have a cleaning service come to my house every other week.
Yes, I’m a housewife who doesn’t even clean her own house. Don’t you wish you were me?
No seriously, I have Merry Maids, and they do a great job. I recommend them. If I could afford to have them come every day I would.
And it’s fabulous to look at my nice clean house! Until the kids wreck it again. So… for about ten minutes every two weeks it’s pretty sweet.
Last week while the Merry Maids were at my house I went to the store for a few things.
For me getting “just a few things” at the store means spending $150 and still having nothing to make for dinner. But I digress.
I came home to my beautiful clean house and started putting all my grocery bags on the kitchen counter.
They were plastic bags, because I forgot to bring my reusable “green” bags into the store again. (I hate it when I do that!)
So, the plastic bags were not very stable and I put too many on the counter at once, causing a bag with a couple of soda bottles to fall off the edge of the counter.
I screamed as I watched the sodas smack into a counter stool, which broke the lid off one of them and began spewing Diet Coke all over my clean house.
Due to my lovely “open floor plan,” the soda was free to spray not only all over the kitchen, but also to gush over the living room, dining room, and as far as the glass patio doors.
Diet Coke was truly everywhere in my house that had JUST BEEN CLEANED!! It was awful.
And not only did I have to mop up all that spilled soda, I didn’t have any Diet Coke left in the bottle to drink!!
Yeah I know. First world problems.
Everyone has their own ideas about the “correct” way to hang a toilet paper roll.
Over or under? You make the call.
Still I think we can all agree that the most annoying thing is when someone simply refuses to replace the roll at all. Perhaps you’ve seen this floating around in Facebook:
This makes me nuts. When you try to balance the new roll on the holder instead of installing it you help no one.
I’ve seen full rolls of TP fall into the toilet because of poor balancing, which is a tragic waste. (Also it’s super gross to fish out the sodden roll and trash it.) This is messed up.
But sometimes, I realize, you just don’t want to spend that extra half-minute (half a minute!!!!) to install the new roll properly.
At my house I think we actually have this problem solved. The toilet paper hangers are much easier to load and unload. Here’s how they look:
The answer is: it stays really well when it is full, although you do need to learn not to spin the roll too vigorously, especially when it’s almost out.
At first we did have a few incidences of out-of-control flying (almost-empty) toilet roll. But really, we don’t need to spin it so crazily in any case, now do we? It only took a week or two to learn how to operate the TP properly.
And now everyone can replace the roll with minimum effort; therefore no one does this:
Do you have a TP opinion? (Everyone does, I’m told!)
Last night I made some salmon for my husband.
(Because we live in Alaska now and must eat salmon. It’s the law or something.)
Anyways I cooked the fish in the oven and then some fried rice on the stove to go with it. But my husband was late getting home from work and I needed to leave. I wasn’t sure if the salmon was done all the way yet, but I thought it probably was. I decided to switch off the oven.
I got GG, my sixteen-year-old, to watch the twins for me. I told her to tell her dad to serve up dinner when he got home. Then I told her that there was salmon in the oven and to get her dad to check it and make sure it was done.
When I got home from choir practice about two hours later, I could immediately smell the cooked salmon when I came into the house.
I asked my husband, “How was the fish?”
He said, “What fish?”
I looked at him. “The fish I made for dinner. Didn’t you eat dinner?”
He looked confused. “Yeah,” he said. “I ate the food you left on the stove.”
I said, “What about the fish? Didn’t you eat the fish?”
“Do you mean some kind of metaphorical fish?” he said. “Because there was no fish on the stove. What fish are you talking about?”
I went to the kitchen and looked in the oven. The fish was still in there, kind of dried and blackened. I took it out without a potholder, since I certainly didn’t need one now. “This fish! This fish I made for you!” I yelled.
“I didn’t know there was fish in there,” he said.
“You didn’t notice that the whole house smells like fish?” I said. “And GG was supposed to tell you to check on it!”
He said, “Well, she didn’t.”
We both looked at GG, sitting on the couch texting and ignoring us. She looked up and saw the ruined pan of fish in my hand.
“Oh,” she said. “I wondered why the house smelled like fish.”
My husband said to me this morning, “This is the day I first asked you out, 27 years ago. “
“It is?” I said. “Wow.”
Playfully, I added, “Well, do you regret it?”
He paused and answered, “Not yet.”