This blog is not for the light-hearted or easily offended. If either one of those descriptions applies to you, i would suggest you start drinking before you read this blog. A sense of humor is suggested. If you don't have one that sucks for you … find one and get a life!
Every morning, or at least every morning on a Monday through Friday, Kevin and I wake up at 6:40. Uggghhhh
So Kevin wakes up and goes to take a shower and shave and get dressed and do all the things that people do when they get up to take a shower and shave and get dressed to start their day. Well, people who work at least.
I meanwhile, lie around for a few minutes and EVENTUALLY get up and get ready to start my day like people who DON’T get up to shower and shave and get ready to start their work day. THAT’S BECAUSE I DON’T WORK PEOPLE! WAKE UP!
(oops, now I’m self conscious of exclamation points…and that’s because Andie told me yesterday that it’s not that I’m a terrible writer, it’s because I use TOO many exclamation points!!! I love exclamation points! They should that I’m excited about what I just wrote and NOW I’m self conscious about them. THANKS A LOT ANDIE!!)
Now, where was I? Oh yes. So I get up every day and put on my workout clothing which usually consists of leggings, a tshirt and a sweatshirt…probably one of the five billion polartec thingies I own. So I walk into the bathroom where Kevin is doing whatever Kevin is doing and I brush my teeth and wash my face and put my afro (yeah, you should see my hair in the morning … or maybe not actually) into a ponytail and I’m ready to begin my day.
Meanwhile the dog (Tucker … the dying dog who mostly just fakes his own death) is barking at me like “come on mom take me outside because I have no opposable thumbs and can’t open the front door by myself” so I’m getting all ready to take Tucker out when I realize that I CAN’T FIND MY SNEAKERS.
Now I’d like to tell you that this is an occasional thing but really, it’s every damn day. I can never find my sneakers. I really don’t know why. I always intend them to be in the closet but they just never are. I mean, I’ve explained to you how absentminded I am right? RIGHT?
So every morning I say in my whiney voice to Kevin, who is attempting to get ready to go earn a living, “where are my sneeeeeeeaaaakers?” or “Potato, I can’t find my sneakers” and Kevin says to me “unbelievable, they’re in the living room” or “you’re ridiculous, they’re next to the bed” or “yesterday you took them off in the kitchen” or “one day I’m going to write a blog post about how you can NEVER find your sneakers” or “Jesus Christ Lynn, why can’t you EVER find your sneakers” or “you’re an idiot Lynn because you’re WEARING your sneakers” or … well, you get the drift.
So yesterday morning I got up and got ready for my workout and I couldn’t find my sneakers. Unfortunatley, KEVIN was out of town and had been for 4 days so what was I to do? I mean, I remember the night before thinking “oops … I better put my sneakers in my room so I can find them in the morning” but guess what? I couldn’t find them at all!
So I looked in the room and the bathroom and the closet and I found the cat but no sneakers. Then I peeked in the office and the living room and the kitchen and where the hell are my sneakers. Finally I sent a text to Kevin:
I mean, the guy has a job to do and just because he’s out of town slacking off on some business trip doesn’t mean that I don’t need my sneakers to go work out right?
So off I went to check out the ENTIRE house again and I finally found my sneakers in my office on the desk. ON THE DESK! I guess I was carrying them into my room and I ended up in the office somehow and put them down and then, of course, forgot about them. I decided to let Kevin know that I had found my sneakers so he could live with himself for screwing up like this.
At least he accepted responsibility for what he had done.
And THAT is why people shouldn’t travel. Especially when other people are depending on them right?
Later Kevin told me that he read the texts out loud to the guys he was with. Kevin acts like a martyr being married to me but in fact, he gets a LOT of good stories out of it so really, he’s the winner not me.
So there you are? A cautionary tale of keeping the person in charge of your belongings close to home.
I’m just saying …