like drunk-dialing, but with coffee and a computer.

Ladybug went to school with her hair lookin like a floofy-wonk and Sam’s new car trick is trying to turn his body around in his carseat so I drove five extra miles (plus five extra home) to get a coffee from the only drive-thru coffee place for miles and miles and that place has mini-donuts from the devil and i ate one, so sue me.

I also added an extra shot of espresso to my usual drink, so I could clean the house up super fast today and have time to do other stuff, but I kept dropping things and tripping over low air currents, so I decided to sit down to make the stars go away.

I called my mom.  And as usual she tried to get off the phone like a hundred times, but I was all like, “i’ll let you go”, but then I’d say “ohhhhh…” and come up with something really trivial to talk about for ten more minutes like how my cat shakes his head every time i blow on his fur even the fur NOT on his head.  isn’t that cute and endearing?  You wish you had my cat.

I managed to hold onto her for forty five minutes, which is probably a record, but at least five of those minutes was me pretending to open up a gmail account for her and telling her she needed to stay on the phone to answer questions about her personal life for the “initialization initiation” but I promise, {your answers are completely confidential}.  Really? Your favorite pet was an alligator? I thought that was some story you told me to make me think college was cool.  {totally not cool}

Finally she caught on and said, “just call me tomorrow when you have all the info worked out, i have to go help grandma make toast.” 

Really? Make toast? That’s what you’re going with? My ninety-six year old grandma can get herself dressed, work a books for the blind machine and create a fruit suspended in jello dessert every frickin Thanksgiving, but you think she’s going to need help putting a piece of bread in the toaster and pushing down the lever? And waiting. Does she need help waiting for the toast to come out? Or is it the buttering part that has her stumped? Ninety years of buttering her own toast and you think maybe she forgot today?

Nice try, mu-thrrr, but I think maybe I’m boring you.  I’ll let you get back to your riveting game of solitare.

This is starting to sound a little like the New Moon post.  Maybe I should do laundry.