What a weekend!
For me Mother’s Day began with Boston Creme donuts from FringeMan and love notes from my children. I am here to tell you that there’s nothing better than a hand written note from your young child. You just cannot beat their honesty, their attempts at poetry, and their spelling errors.
How could I ask for anything more than poetic opposites with a dose of Porky Pig?
I couldn’t ask for more, but FringeBoy knows his mama well and gifted me a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. We went to church and then FringeMan made me a lovely lunch of Panini’s and salt & pepper kettle cooked chips. It was better than a trip to Panera Bread, because it was made with love. I only wish our moms could have joined us, because I have the best family in the world.
That’s the good.
Snow blew in sideways with forty mile an hour gusts all morning long.
Yes, on Mother’s Day.
My washing machine also broke and my hot water heater is two gallons away from death.
We rarely visit our basement, because it is scary and empty except for pipes and the hot water heater; however, there has been an obnoxious odor wafting through our home at regular intervals. We had no idea where this toxic smell was coming from and to be honest, we only smelled it in intermittent waves. You see, none of us can really smell. We are each taking our own cocktail of nasal sprays, allergy pills, and inhalers.
A serial killer could have hidden a body in our attic while we were grocery shopping and we’d think a vanilla scented candle would cover the odor. Now sometimes the lack of olfactory senses comes in handy, but I begin to worry when guests are coming. Does our house smell like the dog? Or worse, my feet??
Anyway, FringeMan set off on a mission to find the smell and successfully found a dead mouse in the basement. Unfortunately he also found that our hot water heater is leaking quite efficiently. He hoped this leak was new, but then a rather large leopard frog jumped from the puddle and he instantly knew our days of hot showers are numbered.
That’s the bad.
Mother’s day is not the occasion for black and gray, but that snow was cold.
I’m the Amish.
If you need me this week, I’ll be down by the riverside scrubbing my clothes on a rock. I’m also looking forward to some intimate moments with FringeMan…you know the moments where he is throwing buckets of boiled water over me while I’m turning to ice in our heatless shower.