Fork in Ketchup, Spilled Milk, and an Almost Obscene Phone Call

Mouse funeral today.

Poor little Wendy Snow didn’t make it. We had a funeral in the backyard. The kids picked the burial plot and we dug a hole. It’s a good thing it snowed yesterday because the ground was somewhat muddy and easy to dig. I was scared it would be hard as an ice cube and then what? We’d have had to put Wendy Snow in a glass jar.

Because glass jars work really well to preserve a body. And I should know. Because we’ve had a dead mouse in a glass jar sitting on our dryer for a year and a half.

The same day that Ninja Bug Guy came to exterminate our bedbugs (yes, you read that right! Bedbugs!) a rogue mouse got electrocuted in our dryer. We put him in a jar so we could watch him decompose. But he didn’t decompose because the jar is airtight, and so he just sits there. Dead. In the jar.

What am I even talking about? Oh yeah. Burying Wendy Snow. It was sad. We said words. We dug a hole. The boys’ sadness was alleviated by the digging of the hole. Somewhat. They were pretty upset and Boy6 cried.

 

Other than the funeral, not much happened today, but that’s not gonna stop me from writing about it.

When I asked Boy9 to put down the inflatable spiked ball and chain he was playing with instead of doing his math, he tossed it across the room, where it knocked over a glass of milk and landed in the pancake syrup from Boy6’s breakfast.

When I tried to peel an egg, half the egg came off in the shell. I really hate when that happens. I wonder why? I don’t even like the white part. I only like the yolk. So what do I care if half of the white part peels off? There’s just something about a well-peeled egg that’s aesthetically pleasing.

I like to dip my egg in ketchup, but you can see that the handle of the fork landed in the ketchup. I really hate the fork in ketchup* scenario.

Especially now that I have to hand wash the dishes.

This hand washing of dishes is not fun, particularly when the dishes are covered in ketchup. I’m thinking of serving all our meals cold, right out of the container. And using a sharpie to mark each person’s carton of milk so we can drink right out of the cartons.

Later in the day some man called me on the phone. “Hey. Can I come sleep at your house this weekend?”

What?! Who is this?”

“Your nephew.”

OooOOoo! He’s 13. Apparently I haven’t talked to him on the phone since his voice changed…

That was my uneventful day.

*This play on words brought to you by Scott. Who insisted on getting the credit for it. So if you’re offended by the play on words, it’s all his fault.

———————
Star Trek Stats of the day:
Number of cast in badly done wigs: Waaay more than should ever be allowed.
Number of times Bones said, “She’s dead, Jim,”: Once
Number of Kirks in a vest without a shirt, so we can see his arms/chest: One

——————-
Song stuck in my head: “Yooooooooooooou Decorated My Life” by Kenny Rogers.

———————–
Watched while cooking/cleaning kitchen:
Malcolm in the Middle

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4 thoughts on “Fork in Ketchup, Spilled Milk, and an Almost Obscene Phone Call

  1. Since Rob’s parents raise chickens I can tell you why some eggs are hard to peel. The fresher they are, the more the membrane holds them together, making them impossible to peel. When you get really fresh from the chicken eggs, you have to wait like 2 weeks to boil them. Otherwise it’s hopeless. On the upside, at least you know your eggs are fresh.

    Sorry about Wendy Snow. But how come you didn’t show us the mummified mouse when we were there?

    • Thank you for the info about the eggs.

      I didn’t show you the mummified mouse because it’s my draw to bring you back. One thing at a time, ma cherie. First it was Li’s. Next will be the mouse mummy. After that…you’ll have to wait and see. I’ve gotta do something to make the hour and twenty minute drive worth it.

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