First, if you recall my disgusting fast-food chain, “McGross,” and the 3-day old raw meat, melted margarine, and french-fry escapees that have littered my personal space recently, then you will appreciate the newly-added menu item: an entire Route 44 Cherry Limeade. Yep, we were on our way to deliver this Sonic Happy Hour giganticup to a certain someone who shall remain nameless (Mike) when I turned left and the cup turned right and Kevin wasn’t holding it and it landed upside down on his feet, his schoolbooks, and the already-bacteria-laden floor mat. So after a trip through the car wash to hose down the mat we headed back to sonic to repurchase drink part deux. (Sidebar: Why isn't it "Happy Hours" since it takes place from 2 to 4?)
Second, I love my new BPA-free Camelbak water bottle, except when it lives up to its “camel” name and spits water at me. Now, I don’t know how this happened. I should probably ask Bill Nye the Science Guy or Beakman or somebody skilled in the art of gas-siphoning, but anyway . . . I put my water bottle in the fridge. A few hours later I took my water bottle out of the fridge and placed it on my desk. I did not drink out of it, nor did I open it. The next morning, however, I placed it in front of me, and glanced to the left while flipping open the sippy-straw. By the time I realized “Old Faithful” had erupted from my water bottle, I was drenched. I’m talking a constant stream of water, shooting 8 inches above the straw for a good solid 4 seconds! Even my shoes were squishy.
Finally, the boys play ball in my office. Used to be a daily routine, but because of this summer’s wedding surplus, my office has been “off limits” to any of Mike & Kevin's recreational activities. Now that I have reclaimed my work space, so have they, and in true Olympic fashion they have announced, “Let the Games Begin!”
Now when I say they “play ball” what I mean is they take turns slamming rubber balls at each other as hard as possible in an effort to prove some sort of manly “bring it on big boy” something-or-other. Sometimes my head gets caught in the crossfire, and I have seen circling stars on more than one occasion. So last Friday, during one of their bouncy battles, the boys shattered my happiness. Okay, maybe “shattered” is too harsh a word, but with one fell swoop of the ball, they knocked over my Willow Tree “Happiness” figurine and broke off her hand. A hush fell over the guilty parties. Lucky for them it was a clean break, and Dr. SuperGlue was able to repair her. Unlucky for me, while I was employing Dr. SuperGlue and squeezing Happinessessess’ hand to her arm, I inadvertently glued the underside of my middle fingernail to my finger.
Does this kind of stuff happen to the rest of you . . . or is it just me???