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Saturday, March 06, 2010

I can say a LOT when I have nothing to say.

Another thrilling night at the Durbin house.  Trenton is with his dad.  Carter and Scott are both in bed plagued with allergies and snot noses.  Scott gets all 4 year-old nose picker when his allergies perk up and gets random nose bleeds and makes weird clicking noises to clear his throat.  It's super sexy.   

So I'm up all by muh-self.  I watched all my tivo shows.  I threaded my eyebrows.  I've played on my facebook apps.  I'd read, but I've read all my books.  What's left to do?  Post a nonsensical blog.


I know, you're thrilled.  You're wringing your hands and thinking, "I'm so glad she posted this.  This most certainly isn't a complete waste of my time.  Her life isn't completely boring and insanely sad.  I think it's wonderful and even the meaningless words dance in front of my eyes and through my mind with a ferver and enthusiasm that can't be replicated.  I've never, until this beautiful moment, been so thankful that I learned to read!!!!"

Maybe not word for word, but something along those lines.


We bought paint today.  A huge bucket of paint.  For the playroom.  It is now a reality that the moss green ex-media room will soon be a delightfully whimsical shade of light.. um... kinda minty green with white trim.  It'll look like a playroom and not the dungeon of death.  3 cheers for that.  Home Depot is fun.  Mentally, I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in there today, lol. 

I kept pointing at things and saying, "Oh... look at that cute fan.  And it's on SALE!".  Ok, in reality I only said that particular phrase while actually pointing at the fan.  It's be weird if I said that in the floor tile section, I guess.  ::Shrugs::

My favorite thing to do in store like that is ask questions.  Like when I'm very obviously pouring over a flooring option I like, I ask innocently, "How many square feet is the kitchen, again?"

Because then Scott has to answer. 

When I say something like,  "Oh look at that {blank}!  That looks nice".  Scott will then say something along the lines of, "Yeah, that looks good right where it is."  And never even glance at whatever it was I'd momentarily fallen in love with.

And that really deflates my that-would-good-in-our-house balloon.  Scott hates shopping.  He wants to go in, take the shortest route possible to get what we need, and then briskly walk to the checkout stand with the shortest line and the most able and fastest moving employee so we can leave almost before we walk in the door.  It's the quick and unexpected illegal u-turn of retail shopping.

But asking him questions like,  "What's the difference in {blank} and {blank}" or anything that involves him doing math in his head gives me more time to oogle the options in front of me and window shop and just in general lolly gag around.  'Cause I enjoy that.  I like to just look.  I like to play the If I won the lottery game and then mentally buy new stuff with my pretend winnings.  But just because I won the lottery doesn't mean I'm going to impulse buy.  That's just plain silly.  I need time to look around.  Make a decision I'll be happy with (if I remember it by the time we get to the car).  So distraction questions help. 

What did I start this blog off talking about?  I don't remember. 

I got flowers this week.  They smell good.  So fresh.  :)  I felt like a jerk because Scott was late getting home.  We've discussed before that he needs to tell me when he's going to be home later than normal because I start dinner so that it's ready or close to it when he walks in the door.  When he's late, it throws that all off. 

So anyway, he was slightly later than normal so I sent him a snarky email.  I think it said, "Seriously?"

Then when he walked in and I realized he was late because he was getting me flowers, I felt almost as bad as could feel.  But not as bad as I could feel.  No, that came in the moments after he handed me the flowers and somehow magically just then got the snarky text I'd sent him (damn your meddling text fairies!) right in front of me.  Glad you went outta your way for this nice gesture, huh?  



1 comment:

Carol said...

Scott shops like your dad and every other man. I think it's that damned "y" chromosome.

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