Scott and I had a day out alone together. He had a meeting and I, naturally, wanted to shop.
At the mall I thought I lost my $300 sunglasses. I retraced my steps and found them at a store where I put them down as I tried on tops. There was no ledge in the change room so I hooked them on the neck of one of the tops I ended up not taking. The manager and I looked everywhere with no luck. Then after I gave her my name and number I thought I'd look at the rack of t-shirts where I'd seen the one I'd tried on. Sure enough, there they were still hooked on t-shirt only back on the rack. How did they not notice when restocking? Anyway... Later, Scott and I went to a jeweller to have our wedding rings re-sized. His went up half a size and mine a whopping 2 sizes. Hello, sausage fingers. The thing is, I've been wearing them for 16 years, never taking them off for anything. Ever. They've been off my finger for maybe a grand total of 20 minutes in all those years. So my knuckle got bigger but the actual finger stayed the same size. Now the knuckle is even more swollen after I spent 10 minutes crying and soaping my hand trying to pry the rings off before I got there. Then at the end of the day, Henry came home from school with a goatee drawn on his face in green marker. Supposedly he and his friends were brimming with end-of-the-year silliness when the incident occurred. He said it happened at lunchtime so he went all afternoon, took the schoolbus and walked home looking like this:
He says I should "see the other guys". Ugh, boys. What a strange day.
I'm a married mother of 3. I'm Canadian. I'm a Whovian, a sci-fi nerd, a ukulele player, knitter, cartoon/animé lover and a tv/pop culture-holic, I keep a blog that inflates my already swollen ego. I'm not all that interesting but I have high self-esteem which makes up for it.
Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. Let's talk about the stuff I love.