Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Take me there.

I love knowing about people. I love knowing about their secrets, their daily lives, and anything in between. Even the absolutely mundane is interesting to me.

I often wonder if anyone else's life is like mine and if it is, exactly how so? How different are we really?

Am I the only one who wakes up mad every morning because I didn't set the automatic timer on my coffee pot the night before? While I posses the Wal-Mart technology necessary to have piping hot java waiting for me when my eyes fly open, I choose to just get pissed off at the start of every day instead. Gets the blood pumping.

I eat a handful of shredded wheat for breakfast pretty much every day, but never with milk. I find the addition of milk to my favorite morning treat creates a substance not unlike chunky mucus.

You're welcome for the image of chunky mucus that will now stick in your head like... well, chunky mucus.

Some days I go to work in an office with a desk and a computer and silly desk toys that people who visit me like to play with while we all pretend to be grown ups and say things like "contractual" and "market analysis" and "peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers".

I say some days because I actually do several different jobs and depending on which I am doing, I may or may not wear heels and high hair. Sometimes I wear shorts and a t-shirt and work from the comfort of my own home.

Or someone else's home if they happen to be on vacation and were foolish enough to leave the key under the mat.

Unlike much of America, I actually really like my boss. She is my second husband's wife. She's very funny, very blonde and very smart. I submit the fact that she hired me as evidence of her smartness. Most people who find out I let my ex-wife-in-law boss me around typically repeat the same question again and again for a solid fifteen minutes.

"Now let me get this straight. You were once married to her husband and yet you work for her, right?"

When I'm not working for people who should legally hate me, I frequently play board games while simultaneously listening to my thirteen year old tell me that I couldn't win a game of Blokus if my life depended on it. I don't know where he gets his competitive spirit. Maybe I shouldn't have threatened to give him up for adoption when he was eight if he didn't hand over Boardwalk.

Mr. Man and I like to sit outside around our fire pit thingie on nice Friday & Saturday evenings and listen to blues and/or jazz on NPR. Even though I occasionally lull myself to sleep at night imagining how many male prostitutes I could buy with the spousal support I would certainly blackmail out of my husband, I realize that when you find another person who likes the same nerdy things you do it's often best to stay put.

On a really good mundane day, I get a call, email or text from a friend. More often than not it's the Evil Red-Headed Berta Lou reminding me that I'm her rock solid alibi for yet another of her "victimless" crimes. Sometimes she asks me to drop what I'm doing and calculate the amount of lye needed to dispose of a rat in a shallow grave just across the state line.

If I had a nickel for every time I've had to bleach the carpet in my trunk after one of her rat burials, I'd have enough to bribe someone to be my new best friend.

Today Deputy Pretty called as did my friend LT Poet and since I love them both awful, it made my afternoon. While neither of them asked for money or sexual favors, I think the fact that they called within minutes of each other indicates a plot of some sort. Perhaps my two best badge-wearers are finally onto the Evil BL and are trying to get me to turn state's evidence.

(Listen boys, I'd sell her down the road in a minute if I were interrogated correctly. And by correctly, I mean by a firefighter with no shirt and big, manly suspenders.)

At bedtime, I put on Mr. Man's boxers and watch Scrubs until I can fight sleep no more. I hate the idea of being unconscious for hours because my OCD factory second brain has me convinced someone will come in and kill me dead.

(PS: If I do wake up dead one morning please let it be noted that I do not routinely sleep in lye. I believe you know where I'm going with that.)

So that's my typical day. Mundane, boring, not exciting in anyway. Now it's your turn to tell me all about your mundane day. Take me there.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Listen to "Take Me There" by Rascal Flatts. There is no way a guy wrote this song. This is what every chick wants to hear...therefore impossible for a man to comprehend.


Copyright © 2004-2007, Sherri Bailey
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8 comments:

Nancy said...

I was wondering where you have been chickie!

I love the new photo ^5

What I do on a routine day? OMG, I WISH I had some routine days!

aaron donley said...

Great writing. Glad to see you're still at it.

peace,

aaron

Jami said...

A routine day? OK, it goes something like this:

Attempt to get out of bed - fail. Attempt to get up later - fail again. Finally crawl out of bed a little later and wait until hands and knees and shoulders stop screaming and actually start to merely ache and then move. Shower for a long time because it's my time by myself and because I'm almost awake when done. Put on some kind of clothes and do hair. Start trying to wake everyone else in the house up. Let dogs out. Pour cup of coffee from pot that automatically started brewing when I got up. Feed cats. Let dogs back in. Continue trying to get everyone else up. Pull covers off of everyone else still in bed. Feed birds. Scream at everyone else to GET UP. Eat a bowl of cereal and drink coffee. Scream repeatedly until everyone else finally gets up. Now totally awake. Pour more coffee. Tell children that I am not the closet and to find their own clothes. Threaten to bodily place children in car in their underwear unless they get dressed and get in vehicle voluntarily. Load car with coffee, phone for me and breakfast bars for children. Load car with children. Leave house only 30 minutes late. Drop off children at school, signing them in as tardy ... again. Go to work. Desperately try to survive the day by avoiding as much work as possible while appearing to be very busy. Leave work. Pick up children. Drive home. I think some more stuff happens after this but it's all kind of of a blur. But I know I end up in bed asleep because that's where it starts again the next day.

Unique Material said...

If I told you, then I'd have to kill you and I'm all out of lye.

Besides, why should you get to write a best seller based on my adventures? That wouldn't be fair.

:D

LarryLilly said...

Up at 5AM, I know, why would anyone get up that early. Its because I can get into work in 30 minutes, instead of 90 minutes if i leave an hour later. Do the math.

Shower at the same time I am peeing in said shower, saves a step. Before I had my prostrate ripped out, peeing took 5 minutes, so i had 5 minute showers. now with that sucker ripped out, i get it over in 10 seconds, and well, i still take a 5 minute shower. Get out in kitchen, throw english muffin in toaster, take out 6 slices of sliced smoked ham, toss in the middle a slice of non fat cheese, hit the micro for 23 seconds, not 20, the cheese doesnt get melted, not 25, the cheese is ALL over the plate. Put away the stuff, by then the muffin pops out, spritz it with spray no fat butter crap, its tasty, no points. Total points so far about 4. My wife who gets up with me has let the wolf outside, he runs in, he wants food, she has feed him, and pours my juice, i sit down, listen to the traffic report, no use hearing weather, its HOT, always.
hit bathroom, brush fangs, get dressed, hit the door by 5:35, drive to work, get in at 6:10, read e-mail, look at sfgate day in pic, then astropic and then NYT online. Read company e-mail, drink my diet mt dew, my cafeeine for the day, get to work. Work till 4, get off, drive home, get in bewteen 4:30 to 6, depending on if any asshole has caused an accident.

Give treat to wolf, kiss the wife, make dinner, go swimming. Then play time.


boring huh, yep, then there is the weekend, but thats never planned, except i still get up at 5am, my internal clock, doesnt matter when i hit the bed, i get up at 5am.

Sher said...

Nancy,
I've been working to pay the bills. I hate bills. I'm not fond of bobs either.

Hi Aaron!
Thank you for saying hi!

Jami,
I feel you. Thank heavens my son sets his own alarm now and gets himself up with no need for me to threaten him. Please don't tell him that's not the way most kids are.

Unique,
If I could write a bestseller perhaps you'd have something to fear. I tend to give much of my milk away for free...which is sometimes admittedly overpriced.

Larry,
I have decided you are a closet vampire trying to thwart vampire slayers by using words like "no fat butter crap". You own a wolf, you brush your fangs and your wife is quite obviously under your evil spell as she gets up with you... in the dark of course.

Sweet. A vampire.

TSG said...

You know what I'm doing this week! It's PJ and the Kid. Spending lots of time on the water, and sneaking around stalking my fav humor writer.
I wanted to use some big words since you are afflicted with Logolepsy, but I couldn't think of any.

Sher said...

Oh Dearest Toad Suck Guy,

While I appreciate the stalking, I was greatly saddened to see there were no words in your comment that made me catch my breath in awe of your vocabulary.

And then I saw "logolepsy" and everything was OK again.

Thank you for that.