A Mixed Bag

So much of life feels like treading water. You're trying to keep your head above water but you aren't really getting anywhere. Then suddenly a helpful current comes along and - whee! I'm swimming somewhere! - and then the current stops and it's back to treading water. Or a big wave comes along and you get saltwater in your mouth.

It's been like that here.

Wave 1: Wallpaper

I decided it would be a good idea to remove this wallpaper border in the bathroom that's been driving me insane since we moved in almost 5 years ago. But then, as I'm removing it, I realize that the walls are covered in wallpaper. And the main wallpaper is coming off much easier than the border, leaving this exciting mess:

According to my mother, we have replaced the seashell border
with a squid or a whale

So, like so many of my renovation projects, I put this on pause to call in a plumber.

(No, I do not expect the plumber to weigh in on wallpapering. We were talking about renovating the bathroom in its entirety, and I need to know what's happening on the walls plumbing-wise before I spend time stripping and painting them. Thing 1 did ask the plumber about the wallpaper, though. And Thing 2 wanted to show the plumber his bedroom. I don't think they understand what plumbers do).

Wave 2: So Many Bags, So Little Time

Tuesday is our gymnastics/shopping extravaganza day (Drop Thing 1 off at gymnastics, run to grocery store with Thing 2 and Baby, race through the aisles, run back to gymnastics). This Tuesday it was raining, which makes everything worse.

I got the groceries in time, but then we get to checkout and the guy doing the bagging was awful. Awful. As the groceries start getting rung through, he is loading up stacks of plastic bags on that metal frame they have and going, "It's reloading time! Time to reload. Reloading happening now." So I said, "Actually, I'd like paper, please, after you fill the cloth bags I brought." To which he was like, "Okay! Still reloading time!"

At which point I got distracted by the Baby, who was insisting on playing the I-Throw-Things-Onto-The-Floor game, punctuated by screaming every time I didn't hand him something else to throw onto the floor.

So while I'm stuck in an endless loop of handing Baby my credit card, then retrieving it from the floor to hand it back to Baby to be thrown on the floor again, Bagger actually says to the cashier, "Are you gonna help me out? I can't do this all by myself."

At which point I look at the bagging situation to see:
-half-filled cloth bags (like, four items, when they normally hold ten to fifteen)
-paper bags inside plastic bags (no!! We don't need more plastic bags in our house!)
-a huge and growing pile of scanned items that are not bagged

Just general bagging chaos. The cashier kind of stared at Bagger like, "Are you kidding me?" which is what I wanted to say, but didn't. Then he did start helping, bless his soul. But the damage was already done.

Basically, I don't know what Bagger was doing, but the cashier wound up doing 75% of the bagging, which meant it took an extra five minutes to check out, and we were late returning to gymnastics.

We get home, Baby is screaming that he wants to be fed, the bags are in chaos all over the floor, everything is wet because of the rain, and the Husband calls to ask what's for dinner and did I get ferret litter today. So we got in a fight and had Five Guys for dinner.

(Five Guys Burgers and Fries, not like, random male visitors)

Wednesday was supposed to be better.

I had planned a vegetarian Irish Bean Stew and some delicious Irish Soda Buns (I've made them before, so I KNOW they're delicious).

Baby takes a good nap, I'm chopping veggies, following a recipe, everything is going great. The plumber comes to check out my bathroom situation, he's going to give me an estimate, all's well. The stew is simmering away fabulously.

Looks amazing, right?

Our dinner guest comes over; I make the soda buns; the Husband comes home and we sit down to eat the stew.

And it is awful. Why? I do not know. It looks so good. But it tastes so wrong. Thing 2, bless his little heart, ate most of his, as did I, and our guest ate hers, but Thing 1 and Husband merely poked at it with a spoon. So... we ordered pizza.

And then the cat - who was recently diagnosed with diabetes - eats two and a half soda buns, which is neither good for him nor for me.

The rest of the stew went in the compost. At least that's better than the trash, but still very sad.

It's Friday now; several chores to finish up today as we swim onward to the weekend, and I'm hoping for some good currents.

I hope you get some, too.

-A Real Housewife of the North Shore