via text -
nate: are you trying to kill me!?
me: ummm...what? i don't remember booby trapping the house....
nate: the toffee - WHY, WHY DID YOU MAKE TOFFEE?
me: uhhh...because it sounded good. why?
nate: it's too delicious. I CAN'T STOP eating it. there might not be any left when you get home.
me: nate, STEP AWAY FROM THE TOFFEE. so help me, if there isn't any left when i get home i WILL kill you - i only had one piece!
now nate is convinced i'm trying to fatten him up.
for what, i'm not sure.
onto things i know i'm sure of:
i'm enjoying cooking and baking a whole hell of a lot more than i used to. which means my sink frequently looks like this:
i really wish i wasn't living like a pilgrim.
aka - living in a house with no dishwasher. it sucks.
i'm also pretty sure that i'm going to find this next story much funnier in a few years:
cash locked me out of the house today.
i went outside to take the dog to go potty (and when i walked past him he was so engrossed in his movie he didn't BAT AN EYE.) i figured he wouldn't know i was gone (because he usually doesn't.)
i could not have been more wrong.
i got to the back door. turned the knob. except...it didn't turn.
WHAT. THE. HELL.
and that's when i peered through the window on the door to see my darling almost-2-year-old LAUGHING AT ME.
"cash? CASH. open the door - c'mon turn the lock so mommy can get back in."
(now is when i should probably mention that i'm outside with my hair soaking wet, in my slippers and without a sweater - double damn.)
he goes to the knob and tries to turn it - when he realizes it won't turn, he just looks at me like, "It's locked."
NO SHIT, KID.
now is when 'mommy survival mode' kicked in.
our windows are old, so i'm pretty sure i can open one of them from the outside.
hey look - the window in our dining room isn't locked!
(stops to ponder how long it's been like THAT, but decide no point wasting time freaking out about that.)
hmmmm...that window is...way up there. ah! i'll get that giant bucket of paint from the shed, that should be tall enough.
opens one window and while trying to open the other, (we have storm windows) first window comes slamming down on my hand.
opens both windows again and lean my body as far in the window as i can. which is when i knock over the coatrack, which falls onto the dining room table, sweeping everything off of it until it falls to the floor.
strains a muscle. can't reach the knob. damn.
oh! i'll get the bbq tongs!
evil almost-2-year-old now thinks we're playing and keeps trying to grab the tongs away from me. i yell. he starts crying.
tongs didn't work, plan b involves stacking more paints cans precariously on top of one another.
SUCCESS! door is open, the dining room is a disaster and mommy is ready for a beer.
don't you wish YOU had a 2 year old right now?
first thing monday, i'm making a dozen spare keys.