Alternate Title: “Wherein Stimey Makes Her Life More Difficult Than it Has to Be. Per Usual.” OR “Seriously, Who Is the Fucking Looney Taking Photos in the Apple Store?”
Also: “Post Thoughtfully Divided into Sections in Case You Hate Cats But Love Macs.”
Are you guys the kind of people who have a list of things you have to schedule and then spread them out evenly throughout the week so you don’t have some crazy psycho day where you only spend 45 minutes at home, 15 of which are spent in the bathroom yelling at your 3-year-old to “Poop! Poop already! Poop or I’ll send the Constipation Monster to eat you in your sleep!”?*
‘Cause I prefer the latter.
The part about the cats:
I started with routine vet appointments for my two cats. They were both lounging in my bedroom this morning, so I shut the door to keep them there, because the last thing I wanted to do at 9:15 was run around the house trying to find invisible cats.
But I couldn’t put the cat carrier in the room with them, because then they would know something was up and then they would hide under the bed, and I’m too human-sized to squeeze under the bed. So I picked one up, carried her outside the bedroom, shut the door, and crammed her in the carrier. Then I ran back in to tackle the other cat who was just starting to realize that my plan was nefarious.
Then, because I was smashing them both into the same cat carrier, I had to open the door, whereupon the first cat tried to escape, giving the second cat a chance to get away. I managed to catch both of them, if by, “catch,” you mean, “squished both of them to the ground with one hand each, thus ruling out the possibility of further constructive action.”
Somehow I recovered from this rookie error of not using a small, bedless room to house the carrier and managed to squash both of them in. I picked up the carrier, and the handle popped off, dropping the now-traumatized kitties to the ground. Although really it’s their own faults. If you’ve seen my giant cats in person, you understand how they might go over the weight capacity for a cat carrier handle.
Quinn and I got them to the vet where, in a fun turnaround, the vet tech had to pry them out of the cat carrier. After they were done, they had to endure the indignity of Quinn “keeping them warm” while I set up a second mortgage to pay for the appointment.
See the indignity?
Then, on the way out, their carrier nearly snapped in half, causing me to drop them again, but ending in my preventing the top from popping off, thus releasing two seriously pissed off cats into the wild.
The part about playgroup:
Then we headed to the playground for playgroup, where Surly McJerkerson spent the first twenty minutes or so refusing to acknowledge that it might be fun to look at other children. Oh, and he spent some more time berating me for not bringing him lunch or the correct type of cracker.
He donated the crackers I did bring to the squirrels. Which was actually his turning point, because when he saw a squirrel eating one of his crackers, he perked right up.
Well, that and the tennis rackets and balls Susan brought.
He’s going pro after Christmas.
Then he remembered last time our playgroup met at this particular playground and two kids shared a baby swing. So he made every kid that was even close to willing share a swing with him.
Looks comfy, huh?
When he ran out of kids, other people had to
cram their asses into baby swings
do whatever they could do to make him shut the hell up
Looks even MORE comfy, huh?
I planned to take Quinn from playgroup to…
The part about the Apple Store
…the Apple Store after I bought him a Happy Meal for lunch. He started freaking out when I suggested that though. After I realized that I’d spent several minutes trying to convince my child to eat junk food when what he really wanted was a peanut butter sandwich on whole wheat bread and organic chocolate milk, I made a quick stop at home to pick up a sandwich for him.
Then off to the computer store. But no! Quinn had to poop. So we had to stop at the closest bathroom, which happened to be in the back corner of a Toys R Us. So after I made him poop a little (Ooooh…spooky voice…ooooh….the Constipation Monster is coming…) we went to play with the trains for a millisecond, then got back in the car to drive to the Apple Store.
Whereas I thought we would be very early, we ended up being right on time for our appointment at the Genius Bar. My monitor had been acting up and because I didn’t know if the problem was with the monitor or the computer, I took both.
The guy at the store told me my kid was a little big to be in the stroller.
I told him that he was too old and dusty too.
The geniuses were running behind, so we had to wait, but fortunately the Apple Store has kid workstations.
Shortly after this photo was taken, Quinn and I broke the store computer. Seriously. That thing froze up harder than the chicken I forgot to defrost for dinner. Then we walked away whistling casually.
Quinn then had a nice time trying to break a MacBook Air on which he was watching “the colors.” Evidently Apple’s marketing is working. Unfortunately, Quinn has no money.
The genius finally got to us and determined that there was not a problem at all with my machine. He thinks the problem was a bad connection. And he didn’t charge me. Which…GREAT!…FREE! and FUCK!…NOT FIXED! and OH NO!…TWO HOURS OF MY LIFE ARE GONE!
Since I brought the computer home I haven’t plugged it back in. I’m hoping the problem isn’t the Bad Mojo at the House of Stimey.
We hurried home. I made Quinn poop. (Don’t make me call the Constipation Monster!) and then we went to the bus stop. Then we went to speech therapy. Then I bought the munchkins Happy Meals. (Good thing I didn’t get one for Quinn earlier, huh?)
When we got home, I threw their food at them, turned on the TV, and ran to the living room for a 30 minute power nap before my PTA meeting.
I know. I’m a really good mom.
And then I ignored my job so I could write the longest post in the history of Stimeyland.
* Do I have to say it? I promise that I don’t threaten Quinn with the Constipation Monster. I learned my lesson after the “Monster That Lives in the Toilet” story backfired on me.