Saturday morning, I thought I would be brilliant and clean the house. I heaved all my cleaning supplies up the stairs. I commenced the cleaning process and then my brain started throwing a temper tantrum, much like my two-year-old. Boring, BORING! I reasoned with myself, saying "You know Ash, it would be so nice to just freshen everything up." So, I did. My upstairs felt fresh and clean. Then, I walked down the stairs to find my two-year-old dumping his RED Bug Juice all over my TAN ottoman.
That all got cleaned up just in time to go to the store and pick up last minute food for a BBQ. I had 3 items and the express lanes were jam packed. I thought I would be smart and get behind this lady who had a LOAD of groceries, but the speed of the line looked promising. NOPE! Hold on Ash, it can't work out for you today. This lady and her daughter (of adult age) were trying to pay for $200 worth of groceries with a debit card that was linked to an account with negetive balance. The lady wouldn't cover her daughter's expense, so the whole cart had to be packed up and taken to Customer Service. Total time waiting in line with impatient 2-year-old: 45 minutes.
Flash forward to the end of the night. We left the BBQ at 10:30 pm. Way past Dylan's bed time, but he was having so much fun playing with the guys and the dogs. It's the simple things in life. I knew he would be worn out and my crazy day could come to an end.
Right as I hit my REM cycle (3:47 AM), I hear WAILING SIRENS. "NOOOOOO!" I knew they were my fire alarms.
I get up and run into Dylan's room. He starts screaming because it happens to be his alarm that has set off a chain of WAILING throughout my house. I can't see because I went to bed with my contacts in my eyes, which create a sort of gluing effect between the eyeball and eyelids. I can't reach the fire alarm because it's on the ceiling, and I'm not Shaq height. What now!?
I run into my studio, I grab my office chair and roll it into Dylan's room. I hear my neighbors coming out of their houses to see if all is well. I hear them yelling and laughing and feel them pointing as I'm on a rotating chair trying to dismember this fire alarm (which happens to be hard-wired into our security system, so I couldn't just take out the battery). Once, I come to focus a little more, I realize that I was in my regular jammy gear. Then I realized I was IN MY REGULAR JAMMY WEAR! Crap! No wonder the neighbors were laughing. I must have looked like the queen idiot. Here's the detailed picture.
Fire alarms going off in the house (all the windows are open because it's Colorado). Child screaming over the fire alarms. Panicky mother on a rotating chair spinning out-of-control, in circles trying to remove a fire alarm from the ceiling, in which she's wearing a t-shirt and a thong. Brilliant. Not only do I look like an ass, but mine's hanging out.
That was my wonderful Saturday night.