So there's no hiding behind the title of this post...
I am stinking mad as a raving lunatic over a gallon of milk, or a Swiss ball - I'm not sure which.
Sounds mature, doesn't it?
Well let me set this up for you - so you can fully appreciate my outrage.
I picked the kids up somewhere between 6 and 6:30pm this evening and remembered that we have no milk, no fruit, and no hope for tomorrow's lunch box- except for to go to the store.
So we went to Sam's and bought our milk, our OJ, our fruit, bread, and lunchmeat.
We unloaded the Jeep and as I tried to pack it into the fridge in the kitchen, I realize I bought more than I could squeeze into just one fridge.
Luckily, we have an extra fridge in the garage. Man, I love having that fridge - but I HATE going out there. It's less of a garage really - more of a tragic work out area that also collects lawn furniture and stepladders from time to time.
I realize I MUST go out to our 'what should be a' garage and wade through the work out equipment muck to get to the fridge, so in an effort to make only one trip, I make a strategic tower of groceries that includes a 4-pack of juice boxes, a gallon of milk, a gallon of OJ, and some other stuff.
I realize just as I turn the corner into the garage that I have company. The kind of 4 year old little girl company that always wants to be a part of what Momma's doing and kinda perpetuates 'under foot syndrome.' One side-effect of 'under foot syndrome' is that Mommy gets to look like a stumbling drunk from time to time.
Strategic Tower of groceries + 'under foot syndrome' = recipe for disaster
Strategic Tower of groceries (STOG) + 'under foot syndrome' (UFS)+ Swiss Ball in walkway = raving lunatic
But Wait. That's not all. There's more...
STOG + UFS + Swiss Ball + 65 pound kickbag swinging back at you after you knocked your 4 year old daughter into it after you tripped on the Swiss Ball = toppling Strategic Tower of Groceries, gallons of liquid bursting everywhere, and a berzerk woman.
How much milk and orange juice does it take to cover every square inch of a two car garage?
Precisely one gallon of each, my friends. The garage (ahem- storage facility for a Total Gym, Bowflex, Swiss Ball, and 65 pound Punching bag) is now soaked in milk and OJ.
Does anybody remember why I went to the store in the first place?
That's right, because I needed MILK>>>
I think we've come full circle.
6 comments:
yikes. that sounds painful...in more ways that one.
OH NO!!!! I'm so sorry! There is nothing that I hate more than for my strategic tower of whatever-it-might-be to come crashing down! Because "I can get it" as long as no one gets in my way between Point A and Point B.
Do you feel better?
I always do after I vent about it.
Oh no! I'm so sorry and can only visualize the MESS!!! Knowing you....you make it through the whole ordeal with a beautiful smile plastered across your face!!! Love you.
I am unwilling to be the first to crack wise about this...
So sorry. I can relate. Hopefully you are more mature than I am and you won't blame the incident on somebody else!
We suffer from under foot syndrome, too. Why do they have to go everywhere you are going? Why do I hate going into the garage, too? It's really just another room.
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