Scrap that...

I had a post all written up for today, complete with a picture, but yesterday killed it. Actually, Wednesday and yesterday killed it. Today's entry is a scrapbookesque list of these events and their lessons, as my brain's a little too fried from it all to generate anything even remotely cohesive.

We'll start with Wednesday.

- Didgeridoo Boy woke me at 7.30am. On the agenda? The purchase of a new television and blu-ray player. Lesson? I'll be damned. He *can* get out of bed early.

- My debit card has a daily spending limit, imposed for my protection and our inconvenience. Lesson? No lesson. Just a flippin' migraine, frankly, and a bit of embarrassment at a checkout counter.

- Didgeridoo Boy decided to wait there while I drove home to get my checkbook. The first lesson? Actually, it's more of a confession. I can drive his car. The second? Even in a parking lot in the midst of frustration and flusterment, with lots of people staring, while I'm soaked with rain, I can figure out how to turn his car alarm the hell back off.

- Combination happening and lesson: It's good to have your checkbook where you can find it.

- An excited man will damned well want to get his new television and blu-ray player out of the box, and quickly, and then he will damned well want his lunch. Lesson? All else must wait when new electronics are involved. And I do mean *all*. The earth must stop. And then there must be lunch. Damned well.

And then there was peace.

Let's discuss yesterday.

- Mattresses have handles. Lesson? You don't need to use a fitted sheet to help move a mattress from one room to another.

- Stairs are fun to navigate while trying to move a mattress. Lesson? If you drop the mattress while using the fitted sheet as a handle, the stair rail might catch it for you. Your sheet will rip, but the mattress can stay in place long enough for you to run for something to cut it loose if it is held by a swearing man.

- Sheets, when ripping, make strange sounds. Lesson? That popping/ripping noise is only the sound of fabric splitting. It's not electricity. There is not about to be a FIRE HOLY SHIT FIRE! Hence, there is no need for a woman to scream like a little girl. Nor is there reason for a man to shout, "WE'VE GOT A PROBLEM! WE'VE GOT A PROBLEM!"

- The weight of a mattress might take a stair rail off the wall. Lesson? It is perfectly fine for a man to shout, "GET A KNIFE! GET ME A DAMNED KNIFE!!! QUICK!!"

- In such moments, things taught to you in childhood stick with the utmost tenacity. Lesson? I can walk quickly with scissors and live, but I'm not ready to try running. My life's already exciting enough without such risks.

And those are only the highlights. Today, I feel like I'm waking up from a dream in which I was sucked into a swirling vortex of constant, but mild, chaos. And that vortex swirled right through our house, evidently, because it really looks as though a tornado's been through. I'm honestly hesitant to move and clean it all back up, because I don't know what I'll set loose if I move anything.

I'm considering indulging in the Southern ladies' tradition of taking to my bed for the next week or so.