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Trying to sloth and failing most miserably

I’m super-lazy this weekend. Well, you’re reading this Monday. So I suppose that should be past-tense. I WAS super-lazy this weekend. I just wanted to sit on the couch and do nothing at all. Which is foolish because it is SPRING and I should want to be FROLICKING but mostly I just wanted to be SLOTHING. What, that’s totally a verb. Right? Well, if it’s not, it is now. SLOTHING!

But I totally went to work and did the work-thing and I went to a play on Sunday because even though you WANT to be slothing, you probably can’t really sloth. I mean, you could, but then you’d feel terrible about yourself for having slothed when you could have gone out and done things.

So at work on Saturday, the following thing happened:

A person called the maintenance line of their apartment complex to complain that a bird had gotten into the laundry room, and they needed it removed immediately, because they were afraid they would catch rabies from it. From a bird. Rabies from a BIRD. I did not take this call, but I saw this call because I was in charge of reviewing all the calls for a while. That’s a thing I have to do sometimes. Mostly it means I have to correct people’s grammar and spelling and make sure that calls that should be paged out are paged out, and that calls are being paged to the correct person on call. Fancy, right? Right. ANYWAY, when I saw that one I laughed until I snorted and then wrote Andreas the following note so I would remember to tell him about the bird when I got home:

Because I knew Andreas, who is very sciency, would find a rabid bird both hilarious and very sad. And he did.

Also, someone called a pest-control line and asked how they could go about adopting from us, and I said, “Did you want to adopt ants or bees?” and she was all, “No, a puppy” and I said, “We don’t have puppies? Just ants? And bees? And sometimes armadillos, and raccoons.” And she was not pleased with this. It was like she thought I was lying to her. Why would you think a pest control company would have puppies? That seems like faulty logic to me. As puppies aren’t pests, really. Well, I suppose if they are chewing on your shoes that’s a little pesty, but not enough to call a pest control company. Sheesh.

I'm not a pest!  Look at my cute FACE! I am a PUPPY!

I’m not a pest! Look at my cute FACE! I am a PUPPY!

Then today (MY today, YOUR yesterday) I tried to sleep in (FAIL) and then lazed around most prestigiously until it was time to go to the theater. It was so windy today I probably could have opened an umbrella and it would have carried me all the way to Schenectady. ECONOMICAL AND ECOFRIENDLY!

The play was quite good. I was glad I got up off the couch. It had a lot of layers. Sometimes I don’t want to think when I go to the theater and I just want things to be pretty and fluffy and sometimes I want to sink my teeth into something. It was a sink-my-teeth sort of day, and the play delivered. It had racism and activism and making changes in the world and people who changed over the course of the action and suspense and drama. All good things. And people I loved – friend P., who is always brilliant, and M., who I’ve worked with a few times and gets better every time I see him, which makes me so happy.  I love to see an actor grow and evolve. It shows they’re paying attention and it shows they love what they do. And there were a lot of people I hadn’t seen onstage before, two of whom were absolutely amazing and I hope to see them again. (One was 18. EIGHTEEN! And WONDERFUL! He cried onstage. Effortlessly. That’s a talent, right there. ADULTS have problems with that. Nope. Like it wasn’t even a thing. WHOA. I expect great things from this kid.)

And now I’m being a sloth again. SLOTHING! It is a slothful weekend. This week I have things to do like review a musical (and hang out with friend K., who is a DIFFERENT friend K. than I usually talk about, I know, am I just the most social? The answer to that is NO, but anyway, friend K. is coming to the show with me and I think we are having dinner beforehand, which will be nice, because I don’t know that we’ve ever hung out outside of the theater before, and as we all know, this is YEAR OF TRYING NEW THINGS!, so it will be exciting and fun.) I think that’s all I have this week? I don’t have my social butterfly calendar in front of me. That’s at work.

This is more me. I'm more of an antisocial moth.

This is more me. I’m more of an antisocial moth.

ALSO, it is less than a month to trip-to-Baltimore time! This is very exciting. I should start thinking about this more. What will I wear? What will we do? What will I bring? How much can I get away with playing on the floor with Baby CeeVee without looking like a total lunatic, because I TOTALLY want to roll around with her on the floor and make her laugh and laugh! I am shameless about baby laughter. It makes me the happiest. I will make ALL the faces for baby laughter. Every last one! Baby CeeVee, we are going to be the best of friends, I just know it!

It is now time for Game of Thrones, which will cap off my weekend of slothing, which, if you look at it, was not all that slothy, was it? Dammit. I’m terrible at slothing. I need to take lessons or something. Slothing lessons! Where the highest-graded student does the least amount of work! SLOTHING!

Oh, and bonus Dad-story: he had a bunch of people over at his mirrory condo a few days ago for a going-away party. (Not RANDOM people. My cousins and their children. They’d been visiting for a week or so.) So there were five little children in his condo. I asked him the next day how it went.

“I had to vaccuum for an hour and a half today,” he said, in a very dire tone. “The place was RIDDLED with crumbs. UTTERLY RIDDLED. Did you know wherever children go, THEY DROP CRUMBS? So. Many. Crumbs. Amy.”

Just riddled. UTTERLY riddled.

Just riddled. UTTERLY riddled.

RIDDLED with crumbs has made me laugh for days. Just utterly riddled. However did he raise two children without going insane? With ALL THOSE CRUMBS being dropped and all? Poor Dad, such a tormented soul.

Also, today is Amy’s grandmother’s birthday. She is 86. Isn’t that a wonderful age? Yes, it is. She is funny and sassy and full of delightful stories that are quite often gossipy and cussy. Happy birthday, Amy’s grandmother! I hope you have the best 86th year anyone has ever had. (It is also Hugh Hefner’s 86th birthday. I like to pretend they are birthday twins, because it makes me giggle with glee. They have SO MUCH IN COMMON. Heh.)

Happy week, all. I wish you all much slothery. Remember, the winner of the slothing game is the one who does the LEAST. Best of luck!

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About lucysfootball

I'm not the girl with the most cake. Someday. SOMEDAY. View all posts by lucysfootball

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