Jeeezzzz I was just toooo tired to want to get on the computer last night. Please forgive me! You know people can be so mean and inconsiderate when driving. We were trying to leave the movie theater last night, and it was very crowded. I was trying to pull out of the parking spot, and traffic was kind of stop and go. Very slow moving, but I’ll be damned if every single person didn’t do EVERYTHING in their power to keep me from getting out. Finally I edged the back of my car out, not by the other person’s choice, but I got my car out far enough that he couldn’t stop me…. He of course made sure to get up as close to me as he could, so that I could not back out enough to get my car out. So I turn the wheel and pull forward as far as I can turning out towards the road. Then the jerk, pulls up to me again, almost all the way so I do not have enough room to back up all the way to get out. We have to go throught his exact same thing 3 or 4 times before I finally get out. Can we just kill all the people like that? They can really ruin things, and the dumb thing is, he held up ALL the traffice behind him, because he just wouldn’t let me get out in one attempt…..People…
Well, I was promised a Miles mlphillips post tonight. As he just settled in for sleep, I guess that isn’t going to happen. Bummer…you get me again.
Tonight we went out to eat at Oleanders and saw the movie Ray. Before hitting the theater, we stopped at an ATM. Miles has a debit card that is showing wear and tear. He, being the musical ad lib genius that he is, began singing a song to the tune of the Beach Boy’s “409”. It went something like this:
My broken card, my bro-o-ken card! My broken card, my bro-o-ken card! My broken card, my bro-o-ken card! [you get it]
The truly sad part occurred when I chimed in on cue for the resounding, “My BROHHHHHHHH-KEHHHHHHHHHN CAAAAAAAAARD!”
You have to understand that we don’t get a lot of sleep during the week. A little eccentric Phillips behavior by the end of the week is not only possible, but likely.
Oh! I’m getting my own office, but more of that tomorrow!
[Want to get to bed before 2]
For those of you waiting with bated breath for the conclusion of our coffeemaker saga, please read on.
It was a sad, sad day June 15th, 2004.
Our little angel died. My feelings were maudlin at best. I was distraught. Inconsolable. Miles bought a new coffeemaker that very night, unwilling to see me in such a state. The new contraption arrived in the most inviting of ceremonies. We expected the very best from this inexperienced brewer; we knew he would be a quick study. We nurtured him; we showered him with praise. Our coffeemaker.
The fairy tale shattered. Perhaps our abundant affection bred inactivity. The coffeemaker was lazy and reluctant to…make coffee. Did we replace it right away? No. We had grown attached to the little rascal. He was kind of cute the way he’d spit water and coffee grounds everywhere.
As the end of July approached, my patience had thinned considerably. I went public that I considered it time to decommission the little whippersnapper. No action was taken—the wife was willing, the husband was wary. He had just lost a coffeemaker 6 weeks earlier; he could not bear to lose another…not then, not so soon.
Three months passed without further mention of coffeemaker replacement, though the boy seemed to realize that it was imminent. I would catch him sneaking away in the middle of the night to steal a tender moment with the little screw up. Oh, I feigned sleep as he went about this task—but inside my heart was broken. Love for my husband vs. love for a decent cup of coffee. ‘Tis a choice no one should be forced to make. I do not envy those who lack recourse against such a decision.
Fortunately, my husband made that choice for me. Last night, we bought a new coffeemaker.
It’s beautiful, more beautiful then any coffeemaker ever was. This morning’s coffee was a dream. A dream. My heart still flutters at the memory of this morning’s coffee. Tonight, we shall proceed with the closing ceremony for its predecessor.
I am happy. I feel good. My coffee is my liberator, my encouragement, and my companion. It’s good to have the coffee back.
Miles sat at my desk for a spell last evening, copying files from his ailing hard drive to my computer. I’m rather particular about my new chair. I gave him a thorough drilling before I even let his backside touch the pretty purple-ness of my chair. He didn’t really pass muster, but he’s bigger than I am; my threats don’t really give him pause.
While securing caffeinated beverages earlier, he obtained a bag of jellybeans.
[YUCK! IF YOU’RE GOING TO EAT CANDY, MAKE IT CHOCOLATE FOR PETE’S SAKE!]
While sitting in my chair, he commented that he should open his treat.
I reacted violently, sending spittle into the air as I passionately snarled that he would not eat jellybeans while sitting in my pretty purple chair. He chuckled and grabbed the candy.
This new office gives him a false sense of authority. I’ll let him play with that thought a few more days before I set the Earth back at the right tilt.
I stalked off angrily, seeking stray French fries from his discarded fast food dinner. I was routing through the empty bag, essence of Burger King assaulting my nose, flustered that I was unable to find even one stray scrap of taboo food, when I heard a sound.
It wasn’t a natural sound. It might compare it to sleet against a windshield…or *grimace* jellybeans against a glass desk. Jason’s vociferous display of mirth followed moments later. My head remained partway emerged in the food-less Burger King bag (how dare he finish his dinner!), having been suspended in the horror of realization. I yanked myself out of my trance to rush to the aid of my chair!
I entered my office to see Jason laughing so hard that he fought for breath. Miles was similarly plagued…but with the accompaniment of that ultimately male smile that says,
“Muahahahahahahahahaha! I made a mess! I feel manly!”
The floor surrounding my desk was decorated with a rainbow of lifesaver jellybeans. My desk held a small army of the candies, as did…*GASP* my chair!
Quite perturbed, as anyone with an unhealthy relationship with their pretty purple chair would be, I told him to crawl around on the floor until every jelly-filled ball was gathered, eaten, or otherwise eliminated from my space. He looked at me with those doe eyes, glistening with his contrived tears, as if to say,
“My mess? You want me to pick up MY MESS? But…it’s mine! I made it! I feel manly with my mess! You big bully!”
Let me get this straight, oh husband, mine….
- I say, “No eating in my pretty purple chair.”
- You attempt to eat in my pretty purple chair.
- You make A MESS in my pretty purple chair.
Now, while you were busy engineering your selfish display of displeasure, did you ever stop to think how the chair was feeling?
Bored bored bored. So bored. My-eyelids-are-like-lead bored. Miles is locked away in some meeting…I hear a lot of laughing going on…must be a somber affair. An hour ago, he popped his head in my office, casting a strip of paper my direction. There, I noted 3 web addresses (written sloppily). “Hon, take a look at those.”
I glance up to ask why, but he’s already returned to the grave assembly. 3 e-commerce sites. How long can a person look at 3 e-commerce sites? I’ll tell you, not very long. Eyelids are heavier. Websites are boring-er.
Jason is off meeting a new client…he has not witnessed my zombie-like stare into the monitor. I gaze into its depth as though it holds the meaning of life. It does not. I am inventing excuses to keep my eyes open. Each blink takes longer to execute than the time before.
I need sleep…