The TV in our living room has three remotes.
I can never figure the darn thing out.
Now we have a new speaker.
And an additional remote to go with it.
Bob explained, again, which of the identical remotes controls which device and which order I need to press which buttons to watch different programs.
Whatever.
I didn’t want to watch anything anyway.
I don’t like the snooze button.
The few times I tried it, I was crippled with anxiety, waiting for the alarm to startle me again.
How in the world can someone go back to sleep under those conditions?
Apparently my kid can.
His bedroom is right next to my home office, and every morning (or afternoon, depending on his schedule) the snooze button goes off every nine minutes for what seems like hours.
He denies it.
But he’s asleep, so who are you going to believe?
This morning his alarm started going off at 7:00 am.
It continued every nine minutes.
At 8:00 I needed to go out, but his car was blocking mine.
Since he’d been trying to get up for an hour anyway, I woke him up to move his car.
He was angry that I woke him up so early.
Whatever…
A question recently posed at Toastmasters was, “What is your talent?”
My talent is to destroy DIY home improvement projects.
I have been banned from ever touching any of my husband’s tools.
It all started many years ago.
There was a sketchy incident with one of the power tools.
It was big.
I am small.
I had to be rescued from a disastrous runaway belt sander.
My darling husband has never let me forget it.
Sometimes he’ll ask me to help him with something simple.
“It’s easy,” he’ll say, “Just help me carry this thing into the other room.”
That thing is always very heavy.
I can never hold up my end properly.
And I inevitably bump into the very things he told me to watch out for, creating a secondary DIY project with scratches, dents and gouges.
Last week I assembled a small bookcase.
I followed the instructions.
But when I got to the last piece, I couldn’t make it work.
The Grown Son stepped in to help.
Apparently the last piece wouldn’t work because I had assembled the whole thing backwards.
He took it apart and put it back together the right way.
Yep, my talent continues to shine.
It’s that time of the year.
It’s time for our annual insurance renewal fiasco.
It happens every year.
The pharmacy wouldn’t release the prescription.
The birthdate was incorrect.
Excuse me?
We all have the same birthdates we have always had.
Nothing has changed in that department.
They told me to call the insurance company to straighten it out.
This entailed an entire afternoon of phone calls and lengthy holds.
It eventually got resolved in my favor.
I knew it would.
I received an updated text from the pharmacy that my order was ready.
Back I went.
Where the clerk told me they couldn’t release my order.
The birthdate was incorrect.
I took a deep breath.
A very deep breath.
I was about to go full Karen on him.
But then he looked through the computer records and saw that the issue had been resolved.
I got the prescription.
As soon as I got home, the kid remembered an additional thing that he needs from the pharmacy.
I need a drink.
As I was leaving for the grocery store, I asked the Grown Son to pull the trash cans in.
He complained that he has to do everything around here.
He slammed the door and ignored my request.
And then he texted me a list of things to buy for him.
I left him on read.
After several more texting attempts, he had an epiphany.
He sent me a pic of the cans that he had put away.
Lesson learned.
I was putting away the folded laundry.
I held it in my arms instead of a laundry basket.
All my laundry baskets have disappeared since both boys have moved back home.
I wasn’t wearing my glasses.
And I couldn’t hit the light switch because my hands were full.
I tried to make my way blind and in the dark.
I tried, but I failed.
I dropped all of the folded laundry.
And then I tripped over the pile.
So yeah, that’s how my day is starting out.
If anyone needs me, I’ll be day drinking and cursing.