I know many of you suffered sleepless nights this week with your constant concern over the state of my sock drawer. I am happy to report that not only was the reorganization a huge success, but that I found the task so gratifying, I opened the next drawer and made it my bitch.
Slowly moving my way down my dresser, drawer by drawer, I discovered long lost favorites and washed up space-wasters. I have both a “cute-tees” drawer and a “sleepy-tees” drawer – combined, I probably wear a total of about four from each – yet close to 700 wrinkled cotton forms live here.
The treasures in my cute-tees drawer, I realized, were mostly gifted to me by a dear friend with an addiction to Threadless.com and a rack too big to wear most of what they sell. That counts as a win for me. My sleepy-tees drawer houses some real garbage, but for some reason I can’t bear to rid myself of those bad co-ed softball jerseys – the only reason I ever joined the leagues was for an excuse to drink pitchers at The Office II every Sunday night all summer.
When the overhaul was complete, I sat on the floor, breathed a sigh of relief, felt a sense of pleasure and satisfaction, and even craved a smoke for a minute. I felt a new connection to this wooden structure. I had an intimate experience with my intimates – and then I smiled when I saw the big mess they left on my bed.
NCAA Bracket Panic
So I lost the paper with the very particular, lengthy instructions for submitting this year’s bracket to the retired teacher, and living legend, who runs my tourney – being on break when brackets came out posed a problem to our usual paper submissions. At about 9:30 Thursday morning, giving myself thirty whole minutes, I started scrambling for someone to send me a copy of the form. With literally a few seconds to spare, I think I managed to get her done. The intensity was similar to the ending of so many of the games themselves. Total buzzer beater. And for all I know I have W. Kentucky going to the big dance.
One “friend” got back to me an hour after the deadline with this witty response: “I would have gotten it to you sooner, but I hate you.” I told him I wished I had a picture of a douchebag to send to him. The genius then replied with a picture of me doing a Gargoyle last 4th of July. A Gargoyle – in case you’re unaware, involves squatting on top of a keg while drinking directly from it for as long as you can – it was trending at parties last summer, for whatever reason. How he managed to find and send that in a matter of a few seconds truly impressed me. Bravo, douchebag.
Random Family Bits
My husband texted me Thursday morning as he was desperately trying to resist eating the doughnuts someone had brought to work. We got to chatting, and I told him about a recent PoPo sighting I witnessed. The next thing I knew, he was text-cussing at me and shoving a doughnut in his face.
Spring has supposedly sprung, which means I have officially survived winter without acquiring cirrhosis, type-two diabetes, or a broken hip. Yes, you can acquire a broken hip. Don’t question me.
Thing One’s two front teeth are loose. As often as he’ll let me, I am working those mugs hard. I would do it all day if I could. Does that make me a creep? Overheard same child chanting, “69, 69, 69,” and looked over to see what was up. He was playing with two plastic tape dispensers. It took me a minute, too.
Driving around hungover one day this week, a kid in the back seat started playing “Shoo Fly” on his MP3 player. Part of the song includes the infectious and repetitious lyrics, “I feel … I feel … I feel like a morning star…” I thought, yeah. That’s just how I feel. Fucking magical.