Hey look! It’s 2:22 a.m. and I’m awake with a terrible toothache! And life is finally “normal” enough that I can roll out a RC again. Huzzah!
As if Universal Medical care weren’t appealing enough a reason to like Canada- the shots of Vancouver are just stunning enough to make me want to go ExPat for a few years. Yowza, lovely place. Plus, there’s the whole Mounty thing. Does dental care come with all the other Perfectly Nice Canadian things?
Speaking of- while I may have been making fun of Ice Dancing on Twitter, those couples just could not have been any cuter. Well most of them. I’m still confused by the Russians and their love of capes and body stockings. But whatever. Am I the only one who thought the dark-haired, owl-eyed Michigan girl is totally in Love with her Brian Krakow look-alike ice-hunk?
I may have finally found the currency that makes Abby’s bladder run: M&M’s coupled with a fear she won’t be allowed in pre-school. The girl has suddenly mastered her bladder. Yesssssssssss.
I babysat for a friend last night, and how quickly one forgets just exactly HOW much work a baby is… as well as an additional three-year old. And boy howdy, is my house not baby-proof anymore! Within the first half hour, the 3-year-old had climbed a bookcase and pulled it over on top of herself. She was fine. But dang! And the baby was practically maniacal in her desire to fling herself down my stairs.
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is a very scary movie if you are 6 years-old and named Bean. He was only ready to sleep once I assured him the movies was, in fact, no longer even in our house.
It looks like the worker-guys have finally figured out the leak in my roof, only to instead have my toilet go all wacky and leak down into my basement. And now, my toilet is in my bedroom, while the new subfloor cures overnight. In the morning I get a new bathroom floor, and the toilet will go back to where it belongs. (This is the toilet in the miniscule Jack + Jill powder-closet between Abby and my room- there is an actual working bathroom in the house, so I needn’t fear a small child wandering in my room and peeing in the wandering, unhooked-up toilet. Really, I shouldn’t need to worry about that at all. Nope. Not at all.)
Speaking of- Abby calls that toilet “My Secret Potty”. It also may be contributing to the mastery of the bladder.
After breaking my neck trying to get to my personal-trainer appointment (free with membership!) at the Y this (yesterday?) morning, she was out sick. I was bummed. I jumped into a step-aerobics class with the yelling chick (who is very nice, actually) but I was so off-my game I just kept getting mad because I feel like an ape not knowing the steps. Instead I found a stationary bike in a corner and turned my iPod up. Lemons? Meet my Lemonade pitcher…
My landlord came by to say hi, and then offered to go look at my old house, which is empty, and to turn off all the water lines, you know, just in case. I hadn’t even thought of that. It was very, very nice of him. I don’t like going over there. Not one bit.
Ski-jumpers are plain nuts crazy. But it sure does look fun. I love the Olympics.
My ibuprofen must be kicking in, because I think I might be able to fall back asleep now. Thank you, modern Chemists. And to all a good night. Er, morning?