Here are some things I think I’m too busy for:
- Stopping to get gas.
- Using the bathroom.
- Drying my hair.
- Hugging my husband when he gets home from work.
- Sometimes brushing my teeth.
- Sending the shower curtain liner through the wash.
Here are the results of me thinking I’m too busy for these things:
- I’ve never run out, but I’ve certainly put myself in stressful situations. One time (maybe more than once) I was by myself in the van and the gas light came on and I paid zero attention to it. I like to think of the Odyssey as a “drama minivan.” Always wanting attention, that one. Anyway, after a while I noticed the indicator dipping below the E – like, below the little mark that says, “you’re about to suck air through your fuel line,” so I called my mechanically-inclined husband. “When the fuel light is on, how mach gas do you have left in the van?” He said probably about four or five gallons, why? And I replied ever so nonchalantly, “Oh, no reason. What do you think is our estimated miles per gallon on the highway in the minivan?” while I tried to remember what number the odometer was on when the light came on. And he says, “Next gas station…stop at it.” And hangs up. And then calls back in a bit to see if I was stranded on I-26 because I was trying to teach the Honda a lesson about theatrics.
- You don’t really need or want to know, but any woman who has given birth to multiple children feels my pain here.
- I try not to stand too close to people. And I wear a lot of deodorant.
- I perpetually look like Ms. Frizzle in the Magic School Bus books. Sometimes I don’t even brush it to try to achieve that “tousled locks” look. Well, I achieve a look sure enough, but all it says is, “I should brush my hair. Or wear a hat.”
- I miss out! Thankfully, he’ll stop me in whatever I am doing and make me hug him. Atleast someone has his priorities straight here.
- Again with the personal hygiene! So sad for me. And everyone within a 3-foot radius. Trident and Certs.
- Using your fingernail, you could write your name in the soapscum/mildew combo going on at the foot of the curtain. Disgusting. One time my mother-in-law brought new shower curtain liners with her when she came to visit (I’m not kidding). Next time she’ll need to bring new grout.