Glory Days

It's amazing how nothing really changes. Take tonight for example. I could, arguably, still be in college.

1.My significant other has a night class so I'm home alone for the evening.

2.I have just cleaned up someone else's mess off the carpet,

3.I'm drinking wine and eating a Lean Pocket for dinner.

4.All I can hear right now is someone moaning and the thumping of a bed against the wall.

Here's what's really happening:

1.Mister Ginger has a night class for which the VA pays him a pretty penny upon completion.

2.I gave the Dude some apple oatmeal for dinner (big treat) and gave him a bath. On the way to his room he bent over to pick up his favorite yellow ball and proceeded to shit on the freshly steamed carpet. Then he smooshed it. After screaming at the dogs to leave the poop alone, I hauled the Dude in for bath #2 (it's not funny.) Ok. I get the dude in his crib with two binkys, two bears a mini weird fuzzy blankie thing that resembles a glad rag from your local sex shop, and a real blankie. Oh. And the plastic innards of a Glow-Worm. He goes to sleep so i get ready to clean up Poopapalooza. I have to call Grandma Steve to figure out why the machine isn't working. Ok. Done. Shit. The machine woke up the Dude. Ok, fine. Talk to Grandma Steve. Take two on the bedtime.

3. A little crying, but mellow so I go open a bottle of wine. White. Yummmm.... What to eat, what to eat? I don't even want to eat, but I'm terrified of getting shitty when I'm alone with the Dude, so I must eat. Screw this. Lean Pocket it is. Seriously? More crying? All I wan to do is drink a glass of wine, fold about 900 loads of laundry and watch some Gossip Girl on Netfilx.

4.So here I sit, waiting for the wailing and thumping to stop whilst I eat my Lean Pocket (really 300 calories? Is that lean???) The worst part? It's an Italian Meatball Lean Pocket. Everyone knows that's really a red wine kind of meal. Sigh. Wish me luck on round three of bedtime.