The Progeny
You Are Never Too Old To Be Dumb
I am keeping one eye on the clock, since I dropped Loren off for his last Rehab session (yay!) and it would be good if I didn't completely forget about him, this time. There was an unfortunate episode a couple of weeks ago when I sorta neglected to pick him up in a timely manner.
If Rehab is the only appointment of the day, I have the option of returning to the room to bask in an hour's worth of computer solitude. So, it was one of those days, and I was just sitting there, relaxing and basking about, when I felt compelled to post a comment on someone's blog. Well, I guess I must have gotten carried away, waxing pretty close to eloquent, when I glanced at the clock and realized it was 40 minutes past Loren's pick-up time. *gulp*
Grabbing my purse, I hurried to the stairway, where I was confronted with the sight of Loren. He had obviously come home on the shuttle, after waiting in vain for his slacker-wife. It was a moment, frozen in time. He at the foot of the stairway, and I at the top, eyes agape and hand clamped over my mouth in shame.
"Are you sick?" he asked with an amused smile. (he had on his mask, but I could TELL he was smiling)
"No. Yes, actually, I feel a little sick that I forgot all about you." (it's best to be immediately and completely honest in cases of spousal neglect)
Loren is a forgiving kinda guy, so there were no retaliatory comments or actions. And now that I have made known my dereliction of duty publicly, I figure I am pretty much in the clear :-) For life.
_______________
While we are on trite topics, I have quite possibly done my last load of "pay-through-the-nose" laundry. Unfortunately, I chose this time to wash my husbands new socks with the bathroom towels. The socks being black, of the cotton variety. The towels being pink, or rather, "dusty rose, with glimpses of amethyst." Well, now the washcloths are considerably less expensive looking. They have morphed to murky mauve, with traces of charcoal. I'm thinking maybe we put in a low wattage bulb, and leave under dark of night.
I don't know WHAT possessed me to wash these items together, unless it was the admonition from the guest manual, "Do not wash colored towels with bleach!" Wanting to fill out the load, I stuck in some socks. This was probably a manifestation of what we affectionately refer to here at The Big House as "chemo brain." This malady is not exclusive to those undergoing chemotherapy, but seems to be a radiating aura throughout the house that can afflict anyone, at any time. Temporary lapses in memory or judgement are the predominating features of this transient illness.
So, all I can say, is that I was operating under the IQ of an amoeba, and a young one, at that.
I just hope I can grow up, some day.
Tweet
If Rehab is the only appointment of the day, I have the option of returning to the room to bask in an hour's worth of computer solitude. So, it was one of those days, and I was just sitting there, relaxing and basking about, when I felt compelled to post a comment on someone's blog. Well, I guess I must have gotten carried away, waxing pretty close to eloquent, when I glanced at the clock and realized it was 40 minutes past Loren's pick-up time. *gulp*
Grabbing my purse, I hurried to the stairway, where I was confronted with the sight of Loren. He had obviously come home on the shuttle, after waiting in vain for his slacker-wife. It was a moment, frozen in time. He at the foot of the stairway, and I at the top, eyes agape and hand clamped over my mouth in shame.
"Are you sick?" he asked with an amused smile. (he had on his mask, but I could TELL he was smiling)
"No. Yes, actually, I feel a little sick that I forgot all about you." (it's best to be immediately and completely honest in cases of spousal neglect)
Loren is a forgiving kinda guy, so there were no retaliatory comments or actions. And now that I have made known my dereliction of duty publicly, I figure I am pretty much in the clear :-) For life.
_______________
While we are on trite topics, I have quite possibly done my last load of "pay-through-the-nose" laundry. Unfortunately, I chose this time to wash my husbands new socks with the bathroom towels. The socks being black, of the cotton variety. The towels being pink, or rather, "dusty rose, with glimpses of amethyst." Well, now the washcloths are considerably less expensive looking. They have morphed to murky mauve, with traces of charcoal. I'm thinking maybe we put in a low wattage bulb, and leave under dark of night.
I don't know WHAT possessed me to wash these items together, unless it was the admonition from the guest manual, "Do not wash colored towels with bleach!" Wanting to fill out the load, I stuck in some socks. This was probably a manifestation of what we affectionately refer to here at The Big House as "chemo brain." This malady is not exclusive to those undergoing chemotherapy, but seems to be a radiating aura throughout the house that can afflict anyone, at any time. Temporary lapses in memory or judgement are the predominating features of this transient illness.
So, all I can say, is that I was operating under the IQ of an amoeba, and a young one, at that.
I just hope I can grow up, some day.
Tweet
posted by Ma Hoyt | 2:33 PM
5 Comments:
Why separate colors? Here is how any respectible college male does laundry: First, buy the cheapest laundry detergent on the shelf at the local Dollar General, Secondly, pack as much as possible into the washing machine (towls, wash cloths, underwear, blue jeans). Third, turn the machine to cold wash and rinse. Fourth, throw it all in the drier. Finally, fold or hang all dried laundry. It is that simple as long as you don't mindwhat once was white towels having a bluish tint. It is alot cheaper too.
I had no idea college kids folded their laundry.
:-) :-) :-)
Will you still be blogging after you return home? Hope so.
the other Nancy
Oh yes. They will have to drag me away kicking and screaming, at this point:-)
Besides, Loren will always have medical issues to keep the family abreast of.
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