Oh boy do I feel bad. Surely this is from staying up late and basically sleeping in intertwined fashion with little Ol for four nights, but I don't think I have what he had/has. He had a horrible fever and a croupy cough -apparently this is a respiratory virus going around- and yesterday skidded cheekbone first down the sidewalk at school (I told him he would really look like a Jedi warrior for his birthday), while I seem to have my same old, same old sinus-based gradu + some lovely chest congestion. I cannot smell or breathe and I sound like a man. Literally, a friend just called my cell, sounded totally taken aback when I answered and said, "Is this Tom?
Screw you, Punxsutawney Phil. It was nearly 70 here yesterday and now "feels like" 8. Jack, who is sweetly obsessed with the inside/outside thermostat screeched out in alarm this morning after checking things three times, "MOM, the temperature is going DOWN!" As we walked to the car, I noticed that all my rhododendron buds that were so perky and hopeful yesterday are now flaccid and glum. Apparently it's to "warm up" again a bit until Monday at which point it might snow again. The one thing it seems Oliver doesn't want for his birthday is more snow. You win, Phil, you win, even though I would like to wring your neck and through you in a canyon.
Yesterday was epic: cooking with the second graders; school meeting; session with trainer (sheer will, people); Ol to pediatrician; fetching J from playdate; building two light saber night lights that are awesome, each about 2.5 feet long with light and sound effects (gifts!); school meeting until 9p. It is with gratitude that I reviewed my schedule today and found not a thing on it except for another event tonight. Luckily I will be able to excuse myself early.
Crab died last week, and I finally got around to "burying" him in the garbage can today. I wonder if his passing was as sudden as it looks here. Like he just stopped. And the lights went out. He seems very peaceful, though I wonder why he decided to go in the buff. You know how you hear that some in the process of dying feel like they're crawling out of their skin? Was his de-shelling a response to this sort of thing? Or is that what most hermies do?
The first crab of ours that died did so in his shell; it was quite a shock to pick him up and watch a lifeless body fall out and to the floor. Then the second one was cannibalized. So actually, based on that buffet of deathly experiences, this guy's nudist proclivity could have been his own thing. I don't know.
Do you know what I do know? There is no excuse for shittily-made straws in this day and age. I am all about everything being as eco-friendly as possible, but Sweetgreen, your straws are the pits. They crack in half, lengthwise, if you do the old, "pump, pump on the counter to get the paper off" trick. If you treat them with kid gloves, depapering as gently as you'd conduct brain surgery, they then crack when pushed through the top of the cup lid. Or, if they make it through that gauntlet, they flatten into a paper-thin thing that resembles a coffee stirrer, too weak to withstand the force of the cross-shaped entry point. Then, you can't suck any liquid from your cup, no matter how hard you try.
So by then, Sweetgreen and whoever produces your crappy straws, I've wasted at least three straws and am irritated. I urge you to reconsider.
