Skip to main content

Facials

I woke-up one morning and it was a pretty average morning around here. I had been making a slow but steady crawl towards my coffee maker, the cartoons were already on and a kid asked if they could please have Mr. Noodles for breakfast.
"Maybe if it was a Saturday," I said.
Disappointment stomped her little feet on her way back to the living room. She made sure I heard her sigh. I rolled my eyes.
Such attitude from 9.
I poked my head in the living room. "Waffles it is."
"Yum," said my son.
"Fine," said my daughter, as she uncrossed her arms.

Waffles and coffee were ready at the same time that morning. I grabbed the milk from the refrigerator for my coffee. "Would you like ketchup for your waffles this morning?" I asked my daughter.
She looked at me seriously, "No, not today, Mom."
That is when I noticed I was pouring lumps into my coffee.
Now, I had noticed for the past few days things had been a bit warmer than usual in the fridge, but I blamed it on the heat.
I turned up the thermostat and went about my day; and drank my coffee with only sugar that morning.

That night was no better. My fridge had not gotten cooler. And the stuff in the freezer was starting to soften.
I moved all the fun food downstairs to the basement freezer. I moved the stuff from the refrigerator in to the freezer. The stuff I could still move.
I paused for a quick moment with the new jar of Miracle Whip. I sighed and threw it into a trash bag. I love Miracle Whip. But not enough to die for it.

And the whole using the freezer as my refrigerator worked out real well. Sure, it's a little less room, but the milk is cold. I have no fear of any food growing green fuzzy things.
It has worked out so well, we have been living out of the freezer for almost two weeks now.
I really got to get out to price some refrigerators.
But I am not quite sure I am ready to do that yet.
You see, all the fun food is down in my basement. I can be real lazy.
I have lost 5 pounds.
Sigh.
Sometimes I can be such a girl.

Comments

AJ in Nashville said…
Wow...what a cool story!

And I always put ketchup on my waffles. Tell Amber she doesn't know what she's missing...

:)
Queenie said…
Oh no, AJ. My daughter enjoys ketchup.
Too much.
I have actually grounded her from it.

Q
AJ in Nashville said…
YIKES! I thought you were kidding with her!

...and I really like ketchup...but not THAT much!

:)
Anonymous said…
My daughter asked me if she could put ketchup on her ice cream, but I wouldn't let her.
Jennifer said…
I have only put Ketchup on my French Toast... Never thought it would work on waffles :S
I need a new fridge too. Every single day I have one bad thing if not ten bad things to say about my fridge. Last night I spilled milk in the fridge and refused to clean it up because I was too mad. The fridge is old, it belonged to my great grandmother.
ticknart said…
A couple of things:

1. "Such attitude from 9."

I just assumed that all 9-year-olds had that attitude. I'm pretty sure that I did. I know both of my brothers and all my cousins (11 of them) did. Just wait until she hits 13, that's when the excitment will really begin.

2. " love Miracle Whip. But not enough to die for it."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH! Thank you for that.
cbeck said…
I am not enough of a ketchup fan to put it on much more than french fries. Sometimes, not on them either.

I think it reminds me that it is how i spend my life: trying to ketchup.

Popular posts from this blog

Unending Paper Chase

You check in on me when you get your break for lunchtime now. You never used to. You ask me, "Are you all right?" You breath in and out hard once through your nose, like it is a chore to even ask. It seems to me that for you everything is an obligation, even holding my hand. Everything you do doesn't feel like anything more than surveillance now. I don't want the days to end and it is getting harder to sleep at night. I am starting to feel sick, like I have the flu. I'm always cold. But I haven't eaten much lately. My stomach is filled with acid. I smile at you anyway. I write two letters a day. One to keep you smiling and one that tells of the truth, but they both look the same. You do not know that I form certain words and sentences in a way that triggers me, in a way that reminds me of what is real. It is something that I started doing in grade school for tests, so that I could easily remember the answers, and then later, so my mother would not underst...

Boxing Day

Countless times, on the weekends when you are here, you leave for me a stream of yellow in the bathtub. Something angled wrong in this 160 year old building. Sometimes you hit the tiles, as you whip your dick to the left to spray. Do you hold a finger over your pisshole? Do you laugh inside your head? I don't want to know. She bathes in there too.  I have been kind even letting you here. It is only because I love your father.    It is May or June, I don't remember. As sickness washes over me and the rest of the planet too, it can be easy to lose track of time. We tend to the plants, stroke their leaves and name them all. We watch the cat grow fatter, as she lolls in the sun on the stolen chair cushion she's dragged to the hard cement balcony floor. I feel like I know Gamer Chad better than myself and she complains about Jordan Peterson. She can't stand his voice.  But I am more tired and angry on weekends. I tell my her so. I tell her my solution. She tells me she...

Below One Eye

It's just a phase, the Moon says to her, when she tells him she can't sleep. Up again, at 6 a.m., tossing and turning through fitful dreams. The sort of dreams that say, You can still have this, if you want this. Weeks of them again now. They are not unpleasant, especially if she can wake herself up fast when she realises where she is. Before she sees his face. She has taken to arming herself with protection. She conjures up her older brother's face and he brings along his wife. They stand beside her and help wake her up. "But if you don't want to," her brother says, leaves the offer on the plate, "I can kill him instead." But I disagree. He doesn't want to die. And that's such a shame. It is the end of winter now. It holds on like the cat who doesn't want to be picked up. The hateful sort of cat; the kind who would spit at you instead of nuzzle. And that makes it hard. Not to want This. She has said nothing to him, that she hasn't...