True Confessions

Somehow I tell a better story than I write. Maybe I am out of practice. Maybe it is the fact that when I verbally tell a story, I have a live audience. But I want to be able to transfer that skill to paper (or computer screen as the case may be). I thought I would give it a shot here. Try to write out the story of my day as I would verbally tell it. Maybe it will stretch me a little and get me back into the practice of writing.

My morning started like most mornings. Up by 6:00--check e-mail, fold a little laundry. Presumably I would get to exercising by 7:30. Nope. I do not like to exercise. I do not like it here or there, I do not like it anywhere. Even though I make myself actually do it 4 to 5 times each week, I do not usually enjoy it. I may enjoy parts of it, but never the full session. It is just one of those things that has to be done.

So I did not get around to exercising until 9:30--procrastination, baby! DD and DS#1 were awake by this time. They got their breakfast and got to work on the assigned school work. DS#2, still in bed. Not a bad thing for the rest of us. The house was quiet. We were all doing our thing. All of that changed at 9:45. DS#2 woke up. Within 5 minutes he was asking me for the keys to our vehicle. Why? Evidently he had left some of those teeny, tiny DS games in the truck. You know the ones. The things that are approximately 1" by 1.5" and cost upwards of $35.00+. Who came up with that design?!!! Someone who does not have children, that's who! Silly little things. Back to the dilemma at hand. I informed DS#2 that we had taken the vehicle to be washed and vacuumed the day before and that any of those little, teeny, tiny games that had been there before probably were not there now. So off he went to look. He didn't come back in the house and he didn't come back in the house. DD and DS#1 went out to look with him. They returned with empty hands. By this time I am lying on the floor trying to do my prescribed exercises and remain very calm at the same time. I did not succeed. I marched into DS#2's room with trash bags in hand and started filling them with everything I could. Visions of zero Christmas presents flashed through my head. And I mean zilch. Lucky for the son, I calmed down and I found the games during my pitching spree.

The good side to this story is that DS#2's room has needed serious cleaning for quite a bit of time. That was taken care of. Probably he will get Christmas presents. Although, his DS is now residing in my room and may be there for quite some time to come.