Sep. 14th, 2011

conuly: (Default)
And before you give me your sympathy, you should know that I mean I literally do not have enough spoons. Those things? You eat with them?

Yeah. I don't have enough of those. (You may now proceed to sympathize.)

I don't know what it is, it's worse than socks, I have no idea where they all go! Perhaps there is a mystical island somewhere where oppressed spoons congregate and plot death on all humans? All I know is, every morning is a frantic search just so we can eat our oatmeal. And by "we" I mean "Ana and Eva". They object if I give them oatmeal with a fork.

So on Friday, after I made the (blueberry) oatmeal I: washed some spoons, used one to stir the oatmeal, put the other one... somewhere, wandered aimlessly up, woke up my sister, made her wake the nieces, went downstairs, and changed my clothes.

And then I looked and looked and looked and LOOKED for that second spoon. In the sink? No. On the windowsill by the sink? No. Counter, table, in a bowl? No, no, and no. Could NOT find it. Had to dig up another spoon and wash it (where did I put that dishwashing soap?) so Ana could eat her breakfast. That or make them timeshare a single spoon.

The nieces are in different schools this year, and I'm sure I'll be glad to explain it to you when I can do so pithily enough. Took Evangeline on the long trip to first grade. Came home, changed back into my PJs (because jeans aren't so comfortable to lounge around in). What fell out of the pocket of my pajamas?

THE SPOON.

I'm sure it made sense at the time...?

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conuly

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