I finally decided, almost 2 weeks later, that yeah, I REALLY HATE my haircut. It’s either too short to do some things with style-wise or conversely it’s too long to do other things with style-wise. Basically my usual routine (wash and let dry naturally) is not cutting it, currently resulting in even more frumpiness (now with the added bonus of frizz and greasy-ness from too much touching and re-touching of the hair) on top of my head. I found the blow dryer (in a box, where it’s been languishing for oh….only about 3 years now) and blow-drying made things marginally better.

But then Internet? I had the idea that sent the whole day careening merrily off to Hell in a cute little handbasket.

I remembered that I also own a flat iron and that if I could locate it (in another different box) and apply it liberally all over my head, I might even like my hair today. So back downstairs Owen and I went, ready to pick through the boxes. I can’t exactly explain my rationale for the next part of the story, but just trust me Internet, I know I must have had good intentions. At some point, and this is where it gets a little hazy because I am trying SO HARD TO FORGET, I went into the room where the furnace is (there are boxes in there as well) and it occured to me that some of the boxes would need to be moved soon as we would be using the furnace in another month or so and the room gets a bit on the warm side when the furnace runs. So I moved some of the boxes out of the room. For some reason, I had the random thought of wondering if there was anything underneath the oil storage tank (oil for the furnace). I took my flashlight and peeked, and sure enough, I could make out something that looked like a box…or packaging material of some kind. Figuring that paper type material hanging out underneath the oil tank falls directly into the category of Potentially Hazardous Things, I managed to get a yard stick and push out whatever it was hanging out underneath there.

Internet, all I can say is that my eyes, they burn. They STILL BURN. OH IT WAS AWFUL. For what did I find underneath our oil tank, but PORN and even more gross, OTHER PEOPLE’S (like the previous occupants of our house kind of people) PORN. Not that I was trying to uh, look (hey, whatever goes on at your house behind locked doors and windows is totally peachy keen, but our abode is strictly an other naked people getting it on free zone, if you know what I’m saying and I think you do *AHEM*) but the people were naked. REALLY REALLY NAKED AND APPARENTLY REALLY HAPPY TO SEE ONE ANOTHER IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. Black modesty dots? NOWHERE TO BE SEEN. Not that I was uh, severely traumatized or anything. *Bites knuckles*

I called my husband to tell him of my little find and he laughed. Oh Internet, he LAUGHED at me and told me to just throw what I found away in the trash bin . You know, out where our neighbors could happen to look in and get the wrong idea about what exactly goes on over here at casa YouMeAndABaby. So tomorrow, I get to venture back downstairs and triple bag my little basement treasure to ready it for it’s big (NAKED) trip to the landfill.

As the topper to my day, I also discovered (tonight, when it was dark no less) that I somehow have brakelights that work but no taillights. My mantra all the way home was “PLEASE DON’T GET PULLED OVER, PLEASE DON’T GET PULLED OVER”. Despite feeling like the Universe had it out for me today, we managed to make it home without running into any police officers. I’m sure tomorrow’s trip to Advance Auto to figure out the problem will result in another highly entertaining blog post.

Amazing what a week of a 13 month old cutting teeth will do to your resolve to write more often and on better subjects. Plus, the husband is out of town again, so its just me and Owen and after a long afternoon of playing “You want this? No? Okay, maybe this is what you want? Nope again? Hungry? No? What? What? What is it?!!!!”, I tend to be a bit fried mentally by 9:30pm and all I can think is how nice it would be to just melt into the couch. Not the most conducive lead-up to a well written post.

So instead, I share with you tidbits from the workplace. That, and more evidence that my heart truly is made from something bearing a striking resemblance to a lump of coal.

There are some very ecclectic personalities where I work. A few are quirky in a fun, “plaid with polka dots really is a good look for you”, sort of way. Others are more quirky in the “You’re heavily medicated for that, right?” vein.

One of these that falls into the second category works on the same floor as I do. They have a thing for leaving cute little ‘reminder’ notes all over the place, like on the copier, above the communal fax, etc. Normally, the notes fly right under my radar and I don’t give them anything more than a fleeting glance. That is until I went into the bathroom and after shutting the stall door and getting primed for what one does in a bathroom, I looked up and saw a note taped to the backside of the door. A note that instructed me, and any other users of that particular stall to, “…make sure EVERYTHING flushes!”. As soon as I finished up, I peeked behind the door in the other stall and sure enough–another matching sign. It was the third sign, placed on the paper towel dispenser, reminding me that “…washing your hands cuts down on germs!”, that just blew all the circuits in my brain. I realize that not everybody flushes and that even some people don’t wash their hands after they go to the bathroom, but really, cutesy reminder notes are not the answer.

I came back to my office and was discussing my ‘finds’ with another co-worker and we agreed that all the signs were most likely the handiwork of our floor’s resident quirky employee. Inspiration struck me and I shared with my co-worker the cutesy addendum I wanted to print out and tape below the other two “…make sure EVERYTHING flushes!” signs–”One flush is all you’re getting out of me”, I’d put and then the kicker, “P.S: I touched everything in this stall after I was finished and before I washed my hands. Love, Me”.

It took nearly all my self-restraint for the rest of the afternoon, but I am grudgingly proud to say that I didn’t follow through on adding my comments to the signs. I may be a meany, but I didn’t want to be responsible for completely pushing someone else over the edge…yet.

The signs must have bugged someone else far more mature than my witty-jr. high humor-possessing self as all three had completely disappeared the next day.