I’m not single – but if I was – my Tinder profile would simply state that I regularly grill Carne Asada tacos from scratch and a pizookie that fills a 12” cast iron skillet.
Wrapping a towel around a broom and sweeping the ceiling for cobwebs seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do at 03:00 this morning. Then I noticed the neighbor’s silhouette in their window and I reconsidered putting on clothes.
Monet has this “tell” that I always seem to forget…
Monet: Hey, Dat, how was work today?
Me: Good! (short story about computers)
Monet: Hey, Dat, how was school today?
Me: Great! (short story ensues)
Monet: Hey, Dat, what did you learn today?
Me: Fun things like math and science!
Monet: Hey, Dat, I pooped.
Every. Single. Time.
It’s 02:00, I’m wide awake and trapped in a tent with my 5-year old (whom is blissfully sound asleep -bless his lucky heart) at a park in Long Beach just feet from the noisy 605 freeway …with no less than 500 other kids and parents locked into this same “overnight extravaganza” experience.
Three problems I failed to account for: 1) I forgot headphones so I could watch Netflix without waking the child up. 2) my reading glasses are a mile away in the car….I’m literally typing this one letter at a time at my arm’s fullest distance.
Nevermind, 2 problems. I just peed into a water bottle. But I kinda wish I had my glasses for that one.
Yesterday – around 10:30 in the morning – our bird started freaking out in her cage and then the ground started shifting. This morning, a few minutes after 04:00, it sounded like the bird fell off of her perch and flapped around in the cage until I came to get her. She was really spooked. Come to find out: there was an aftershock at that time. I didn’t feel it but she sure as hell did. I’ve got a fluffy little seismometer that poops on my shoulders. Win-win.