Aarrrghhh!
Cookie baking extravaganza here today.
I hate these people and their gingerbread, sugar infused and sprinkled creations!
They make me sick!!
So my step daughter came last night to assist me with my safety grab bar issues. It seems that I was trying to drill into the breaker box. 
Now I knew the box was on the other side of the wall, but I was irrationally convince it was higher and further to the right. Ahemm, I was incorrect. We (mostly she) came up with a diagonal mount missing the breaker box. She is also having her hubby make me some vinyl clings in a a cool design to cover the extra holes that will be filled with silicone. My step daughter is a hero, a genius, and a good friend.
Well, I haven’t been so lucky. No sign of my wallet after almost two weeks. I’d really be freaking out if my credit cards and bank cards had been in it – besides the hassle of replacing them, any of them can rack up pretty substantial charges using contactless payment without knowing the PIN.
I don’t know if I was exceptionally muddle-headed today, but I had multiple episodes of forgetfulness. I had a shopping list and also an updated insurance card that I keep in the car, and I left the house forgetting them both. I needed to come back for other reasons after my first trip, so I put the shopping list in my jacket pocket, got some other stuff I needed, then left, forgetting the insurance card once again.
The best part, though, is the Mystery of the Disappearing Eggnog. I kept the eggnog and a carton of iced tea in the cart because they wouldn’t fit in the one bag I had. I’m certain I placed both cartons in the trunk along with the bag because I remember thinking I hope they’re well enough secured that they don’t tip over and spill. When I got home, there was the iced tea, but no eggnog.
It’s just not been a great day. I picked up my mail from the community mailbox that just about everybody is stuck with these days, and there was a key the opened one of the big parcel lockers. And there was a big parcel, with my exact address and postal code, but not my name – it was someone I’d never heard of. I marked it “Not at this address” and then tried to dump it off someplace. Think I could find an ordinary mailbox? No, not with these community mailboxes everywhere. They have a little slot for outgoing mail, but it’s barely wide enough to fit an ordinary small envelope through. The only place I could find with a real mailbox was outside a post office, so I stuffed it inside.
The eggnog has apparently joined my wallet and gone off to meet its maker; it has joined the choir invisible. I checked the trunk carefully with a bright flashlight. It is unquestionably not there. It’s possible that I hallucinated putting it in the trunk and in fact left it in the shopping cart, but I don’t see how – it was right in the top basket with everything else. I checked the cash register receipt and it had, indeed, been rung up. I worry about myself sometimes.
Not eggnog but I’ve occasionally had a grocery item vanish when unloading things from my trunk. No idea how or where it went. It has never been anything particularly pricey, so nothing that upset me too much, but definitely confusing.
I just hope I don’t discover, in the heat of next summer, that the eggnog was there after all. But honestly, no, something else must have happened to it. It’s totally bizarre.
That sounds like the setup for a joke.
Q: How do you find the eggnog you misplaced?
A: Don’t worry, the eggnog will be sure to let you know where it is!
Our family has a distinctive surname, and it looks like it’s coming to an end. Luckily, no one’s said a word about that … not even my mom whose passion is our family’s genealogy, back beyond the Mayflower to The Old Country.
The only comment I’ve ever fielded was an elderly lady at church, right after we got married, asking my wife “And when are you two going to start a family?”
“Excuse me”, I butted in, “but we already are a family.”
I found a desiccated tomato (band name!) under the driver’s seat of my 2003 CR-V when I was cleaning it up to sell. It had clearly been there for quite some time, and must have rolled out of a grocery bag. Never smelled a thing.
Excellent response. I hate, hate, HATE it when people use “family” to mean “couple with children,” or even worse, just “children.” (“People with families can pre-board…”, or signs like this: https://www.psexpress.ca/mobile/assets/images/autogen/2rh001-reserved-family-parking-only-sign-by-all-signs-co.jpg)
I never park in the “family parking spots,” because I don’t want to be an asshole to heavily pregnant women or people juggling multiple small children, but I always think, “hey! I have a family! I should be able to park there…”
You are a hero. I wish those spots had been a thing (better named) when I was pregnant or wrangling three kids, 4 years and under.
Brand name if you ever want to market the stuff: Mater Leather
I have a kid with zero danger awareness who occasionally just breaks away and bolts into the parking lot faster than I can catch him. So far he has just run around our car in circles, but it gives me a heart attack every time.
Leading to the somewhat humorous exchange:
“Wee Weasel, you cannot do that! Look at me while I’m talking to you!”
(Remembers eye contact is not comfortable for many autistic people)
“Okay, nevermind, you don’t have to look at me. But listen well! This is dangerous! Do you understand?”
Wee Weasel: “This side of the car is dangerous!”
Sigh.
Apparently, you can get handicapped placards for exactly this issue, but I dunno how I would feel about doing that. I’m trying to teach him to stay by me. We are practicing indoors.
I doubt little kids are great at this in general, so yeah, those are needed spots. Not sure what better to call them, though.
My oldest daughter darted in front of a huge pickup truck in a hardware store parking lot once. I had to drop my purchases and lunge at her to pull her back to safety. She seriously could have died.
I think she was 3 at the time. Holy crap that kid used to freaking terrify me.
She’ll be 17 in a week, so now she terrifies me in different ways…
I recently complained in another thread that my husband is too overprotective, but this is why. It’s true my son is not likely to die falling off a toilet seat, but he’s impulsive as hell, and “holy shit that’s dangerous!” does not compute.
Parking for Kids under 5 & Pregnant Women
I know the kids don’t drive, but many disabled people don’t, either, but their drivers can use disabled spaces if they’re in the car. Same principle.
Given the number of drivers I see on their phones and little kids’ speed and sense of self preservation, I agree that the spots are necessary.
You’re not the only one to have problems with wayward tomatoes.
It’s not just the runners (my middle child) it’s just getting them out of car, into the stroller, keeping them from fighting, or vibrating away even on the sidewalk with excitement, is exhausting. I had always noticed when I was pregnant that people would hold doors for me etc. Once that baby was extricated all bets were off. Pushing a double stroller, boom door in the face, carrying an infant and wrestling a toddler or two, invisible, especially
if you were carrying the dreaded car seat. I always try to make sure I help moms fighting this battle. I always appreciated the few times I got help.
Frankly, I got pretty good at kid wrangling as did my bff. I can’t even imagine trying that shit now.
Oh, and I may be in the minority here, but I would totally had a harness for my middle kid, “The Runner.” They were not available in the 80’s that I could find. I did try a “hand holder.” When TR was 20 months old could have worked out how to point and laugh while he as running, he totally would have with glee. He certainly got the laughing part down. Mean while I was left chasing him, dragging my next oldest, 35 months, and the worthless hand holder. Good times.
My phone is beginning that descent into crapitude. The battery runs low even if nothing is running, certain apps are acting slightly wonky, etc.
It’s a Galaxy S10 and I’ve had it for years; I understand the decline is inevitable, but dammit, I do NOT have the extra money right now, at all.
I’ve had borderline high blood pressure for years, but recently it’s been in the 140/85 range, so my doctor put me on medication, and scheduled me for a BP check in about 12 weeks.
After about 6 weeks, I had to go to the office because of an injury. My regular doctor was out that day, so I saw another doctor. He checked my BP while I was there, and it was still at 140/85ish, so he recommended doubling the dose (I was on the lowest possible dose), and also recommended buying a blood pressure monitor. He even recommended a brand.
So I ordered one from Amazon. The first time I hooked it up, it read 180/115. So I changed the batteries, tried again, and it was 190/120. Which, if you google, is “You should probably go to an emergency room” level of BP. So for one last try, I sat in a comfortable chair, dimmed the lights, and put on some soft music, stayed that way for 20 minutes, then took it again. 185/120.
Since I assumed my BP hadn’t really jumped 40 points in 72 hours, I decided to risk waiting a day.
I went to my doctor’s office the next day, with the monitor, and confirmed that indeed my BP was still at 140/85 when taken by a trained professional on calibrated equipment. The piece of shit home monitor was still reading a good 30-40 points higher. My regular doctor sort of admitted that the hospital they’re affiliated with has “suggested” they recommend that brand of monitor (it begins with an “O” and ends with “mron”, if you want to know what to avoid), but he personally doesn’t think home monitoring is worth it for someone at my BP. So back to Amazon the monitor went, with a scathing review.
Between my late MIL, my late wife, and myself I’ve had 3 different models of Omron monitor over about 20 years. Have one right now. They all agreed pretty close with the old fashioned mercury sphygmomanometer at the doc’s. My PCP now uses a wrist-cuff Omron for most exams, but pulls out the old fashioned gear on occasion. No real difference noted.
You got a lemon. Which sucks.