but learned again recently…
Never say never. The finality of it will feel like a challenge. (Insert far too much self-analysis here.)
No matter how careful I am, I am not careful enough to keep from splattering big dark blobs of hair color all over the carpet every time I dye my hair.
If I forget to put the sheets in the dryer until 11:00 p.m., then we have to wait until 11:40 to go to bed.
I’m too old to stay up until 11:40.
Taking a cat to the vet costs at least $500. They always find a problem. It’s just the same as taking your car to the shop, except there’s fur.
IKEA seems like such a good idea, until I get there, and then it just makes me achy and sad. Like nachos.
I don’t have enough space for my junk. (I went to IKEA looking for junk storage.)
It’s really hard to let go of the stuff that I like to make room for the stuff that I love, sooooo…the stuff that I love is waiting in drawers and closets and piles and boxes. Waiting. And the stuff that I only like is hanging on the walls. Sigh. 😐
Dark purple Mario fruit snacks look a lot like little balls of cat poo when I spy them on the floor in my dimly lit living room. Their grape scent momentarily confuses me.
One of my son’s biggest challenges is communicating his long-term goals. And by “long-term,” I mean what he wants four minutes from now. He starts every goal by communicating only the first step: “I want Mama up.” His ultimate objective is a mystery that only he can know until each step is completed, in order, one at a time. I try to get more information by asking “I want Mama up because…??” On a good day he will finish the sentence – “I want Mama up, because I want Mama to be standing.” 😐
When Oreo cookies go on sale, husband or I must buy them. Must. Buy. Them. Double Stuff.
My older brother knows way more about books than I ever will.
I used to love playing jacks. The metal kind. They were heavy and offered a satisfying tactile experience. The new, too-big-for-little-fingers, neon-colored, sticks-to-itself-rubber jacks just aren’t the same. 😐
Giant umbrellas will pop open in the car. Twice.
If I really enjoy the hotel jacuzzi, then I will not have a card key to get back into the building until I am freezing again. Freezing. In a wet swimsuit. In the dark. Other hotel guests will stare at me when I walk around through the parking lot to find an open door. I will not find an open door.
Six quarts of crock pot vegetable soup = six quarts of trash if you add just one ingredient that doesn’t have quite the right flavor. I added two. 😦 Tarragon and green onions…what was I thinking?!? Darn it!
If I decide at the last minute to take my cat to the vet, then I will forget to do something else, like put my son’s lunch in his backpack.
If I forget to put my son’s lunch is his backpack, my sense of self-worth in the motherhood department will look like a ball on New Year’s Eve – sparkling and determined (until the wrong is righted), then dark and low for a really long time. Oy.
I can never have enough tin ornaments.