We got a new laptop. Our old one would turn on. Sometimes it would humble itself and type. It's maturity (only in age, not in attitude) no longer allowed us to hear music or videos, although sometimes it would succumb and play them. (A video with no words is not worth watching.) I was really pushing for an Apple, because then my whole life could sync and I would feel good about things. I guess I should have known I would pay for such a convenience as just being able to say "Siri, sync up my life" and having it done. It turns out all Apple products are expensive, yet they are still made in China by people who hate their jobs so much the employers put bars on the windows to keep them from jumping out. (Do I know this to be fact? No.) So it costs $42.38 to make an Apple laptop and $1200 to buy one. (What do I know? Nothing. I just assume all sorts of things based on what I hear, and I'm not even that great of a listener.) Because of this, we decided to forgo convenience and give HP our hard-earned dollars. (Their computers are made in factories without bars on the windows. Because they have no windows. See above disclaimer.) I am already not in love with said HP/windows combo, and internet explorer is no Safari. (I pulled up explorer, and got an error message. This does not give me much confidence for the future of our blessed union.)
As for setting up, the twenty minutes it took to do it was waaaaaaay too long if you ask me. And then this:
And this: (randomly on my camera roll, but now we know where my phone has been...)
I, by the way, hate, hate, HATE pictures of myself, especially on days where I tried the "beach wave" do, which never turns out on my head like it does on Pinterest. Who has time for an hours-long hair session when everything else is staring at you, including two unpleasant and loathsome bugs, waiting for you to bark your orders so you can get on with your day? I'm still staring at that picture. As Kramer would say, "look away, I'm hideous". At least my face doesn't look like an old catcher's mitt.
Summer. The time when your son wants to play video games and your daughter keeps calling your cell phone from the house phone because she is bored and wants you to entertain her. And since I wouldn't answer, she answered her own call. And then there is listening to said conversation between the girl and herself, house phone on one ear and cell on the other.
Sometimes I think we all could use a little more structure and a little less down time. Which is why I signed her up for the upcoming softball tourney, even though she has told me repeatedly she didn't want to play, and had mistakenly assumed we would be out of town during the actual games, providing her an out. And I said not so fast my friend, you are play-ing. To which she had an all-out meltdown, threw her sandwich on the ground, (I throw it on the ground...thank you, Adam Sandburg, for creating many "throw it on the ground" references for me, although your ending is disturbing and and also really creepy, Ryan Reynolds, or no Ryan Reynolds--if you watch, don't say I didn't warn you.) yelled "WHO DID THIS????" and started screaming at the top of her lungs. Ear piercing shrieking that is not for the faint of heart. Cut scene to her brother, who, for lack of better reaction, began his own meltdown, pointing at his sister and yelling "HER! HER!", which I am assuming means "everything is her fault" or "I'm upset because of her" or some other type of "HER" accusation. "PULL. YOURSELVES. TOGETHER." may have been said at some point. Cut scene to screaming and running up steps, slamming a door. Big sighs and looking around at the kitchen walls for an answer to the question where did I go wrong. Then. An intercom call from the upstairs phone to the kitchen phone, and The Shrieker informing me that "dad would like to speak to you". Oh, really.
Apparently, unbeknownst to me, girlfriend called her dad to tattle on me, as she did not see my reaction befitting the circumstances. Poor dad. He's been called more for domestic disputes this week than he has in the past twelve years.
Circumstances as they are, sometimes it's easy to look around and think other people must have it better or easier or something. In fact, the older of my two just walked in, presumably to get my ear before her brother could, to explain "mom, he kicked me so I accidently pushed him down". Accidently. More slamming doors, stomping feet, glares and angry words. Me yelling "doors OPEN!!" due to our house "open door policy". This against the back-drop of "STOP. NO YOU STOP. YOU STOP. NO YOU. STOP. YOU STOP. NO YOU STOP." But if this is the worst thing that happens, it is still a pretty good day, right? Right?
I'm off to bark orders and whip this place into shape. Haters can hate, but we keep on keeping on. Over and out, yall.