Mister Choochoo didn't come to bed until late last night. I was awake, playing with my iPad, when I heard him coming up the stairs. I quickly hid the thing and pretended to be asleep. The tricky part when it comes to making people believe that you are sleeping, is not to giggle. I don't know why, but it always makes me want to chuckle like a psychotic toddler.
I focused oh so very hard on breathing slowly and peacefully, while I was biting the insides of my cheeks not to do the mental-patient-laugh. Then, just as the Mr had sat down on the bed, I hopped up and yelled "BOOO!"
Mister Choochoo just looked at me calmly and said "as if I hadn't noticed that you weren't snoring..."
So I picked up on your discrete hints and the word verification on this blog should now be gone.
Might I just say that HOLY CRAP was that thing unwilling to die quietly. I keep looking over my shoulder in case this is going to be like one of those horror sci-fi films where the computer decides to fight back.
In further news, this just moved in:
It's the world ugliest soup tureen. I love it. I don't know why. I think it's the same thing that makes people fall in love with rescue pets that are, say, missing an eyeball and maybe a couple of legs. Not only does it have weird flowers everywhere, it's also painted in a way that makes it appear to have been sculpted out of mashed potatoes. And it has a miserable looking face! Hint: the roses are the eyes.
As I mentioned before, Mondays are my home-alone day. They tend to be pretty boring. This time I've decided to make a list of the positives. These are the two best ones:
1. Chips: in all shapes and varieties. The smell of chips makes the mister put on his pukey face, and although I've near-vomited on him a couple of times when I was sick, I would prefer to not be vomited on in return. So on Mondays I get to eat chips until the smell of them makes me want to puke, too.
2. Open doors: if the doors to the living room and the bathroom are both open, I can pee and watch telly at the same time!!! That totally needed more than one exclamation point.
You know how sometimes you wake up in the morning, and your throat feels as if you tried to swallow a porcupine without chewing? And you have this sneaking suspicion that you might have broken the sound barrier a few times during the night with truly epic snores? And you kinda glance guiltily over at your spouse/partner/realdoll lying next to you in bed, sleeping soundly but maybe looking a little pale?
Welcome to my morning! I'm also feeling a bit...oxygen starved. Nothing a 6x espresso won't fix. Then maybe I can come up with a clever plot to still be lovable by the time Mr Choochoo gets up, despite having snored like a wilderbeast all night long.
Remember that huge pile of candy from last night? Remember how I was all "I'm going to eat it all, muahahaha"? About an hour later, I was 1/4 into the bowl and slowly turning a shade of putrid green. I used to be really good at stuffing my face. Good enough to wear a special crown, if I must say so myself. Not that I would. I've spent countless hours watching "what not to wear." But last night, I was forced to admit that I have lost my imaginary crown. My poor body isn't used to sugar the way it once was. Right now I'm thinking that THIS time the lesson is going to stick. Although logically I know it'll only last until this damned sugar headache wears off.
Later that day: My headache went away and then I lost my mind and before I knew it, I had eaten more candy and now my head hurts again. I'm telling you, there is something wrong inside my brain somewhere.
Mister Choochoo and I had a little chat and decided that our moods could be improved upon. The best solution? SUGAR!
There is one lesson that we keep learning and then forgetting over and over again, and that is that when two people share a shopping basket and they both wander around the grocery store, stuffing things into said basket without really registering what the other person is doing, they end up with a whoooole lot more junk than they had anticipated. Even Pooch got more snacks than she'll be able to eat in an evening (although she has that nifty tactics of puking when she's stuffed to make room for more)
In my (optimistic sugar-starved) brain, we will TOTALLY be able to eat all this stuff tonight. Run to your nearest bookie and place your bets, ladies and gentlemen!
Every Monday, Mr Choochoo starts work early in the morning and doesn't get off until late at night. Given a stupidly long drive home and another early start on Tuesday, he spends Monday nights at a B&B. I spend Monday nights on the couch with my peepers glued to the boob tube. Being home all alone is much more boring than I remembered from when I lived alone. To entertain myself, I stock up on all those things you shouldn't really eat and stuff my face until I'm half a chip away from tossing my cookies. Luckily the mister always comes home before I get fat.
However, in a few weeks he needs to be away for several days for a seminar. I might have to have my jaws wired shut during that period...