Mercury in retrograde?


I have never before in my life believed in mercury in retrograde, but this weekend had me scratching my head in doubt.  Alternate title for this post: Adventures in Eufaula, Vol. MCXCMLIII (see previous versions including The Rodeo and Babies Deserve Lollipops Too).

I needed to run down to the lake house for a quick overnight visit on Friday, so I loaded the boys up after school and we zipped on down, the car loaded full of goodies for the One Room Challenge. Mostly I wanted to check on a few deliveries that were arriving, patch up the holes from having the new lights installed, etc. Plus Jude had a basketball game Saturday night at 7, so our time was limited.

But wait – let me back it up a bit. I’ve been nursing a nasty double ear infection/sinus mess thing and been taking steroids, which my friend Susan says is just like being nailed in the face with Rage Spray™. And that’s EXACTLY what it’s like. So naturally the Rage Spray has made me all crazed and out of my regular mind.

Except … then the rain of Biblical proportion began late Friday night, just after we arrived at the house. Like gushing water, nonstop thunder, lightning and buckets of rain. It was so much rain that  I considered taking the oars off the wall in case we needed to make an ark. Except I really didn’t want to get on a big boat again with Archer after the last go-around.

So by around 3pm with zero chance of the rain letting up, I decided it would be better to stay another night and skip out on Jude’s basketball game, which he was fine with. SAFETY FIRST.  But we were out of food, so it was imperative that we dash into town to get something to eat at our favorite Mexican place.

Aaaaaand this is where everything fell apart.

Here are the texts I sent to Simon:

So just to recap. Jude had gone through all of his clean clothes AND drenched his regular shoes AND was wearing my now-disgusting and nasty rose gold Birkenstocks (because YES, we wear the same shoe size now OMGGGGGG). Let us all have a moment to giggle at Jude. In my gold birks. Because it’s a FANTASTIC image, let me tell you.

Meanwhile so I can have a moment of sanity and save the people around us from listening to Archer wig out, I let him out of the booth to free range roam in the restaurant to get a piece of candy from the bowl that is suspiciously right at his eye level.

Except no.

YES. The baby was eating mints from a trash bowl where people HAD SPIT OUT THE MINTS THEY DID NOT LIKE AND TRASHED THEM. in his mouth. IN HIS ANGEL BABY MOUTH.

And I srsly wanted to curl up and die right there in that booth because we were getting The Looks of Judgment and Shame™ from old people sitting near us and really, can we please stop with the parental shaming because that is really the worst feeling on earth. Like the absolute lowest of the low. And you can’t tell me your children haven’t acted the same way at some point.

Rage Spray strikes again!

We finally got home in one piece on Sunday afternoon where 2 out of 4 of us collapsed into bed for a good long nap.  And I’m pretty much going to avoid the world like a troll in the cave until I can get off the steroids.

The end.


with love,

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