Antique Crazy

Don’t You Hate It When…

Your spouse is out of town and you’ve had the kid all day and after you’ve read about 107 books of awkward rhyming syntax, you fiiiiiiinally get him to bed so you go take a nice bubble bath with visions of HGTV dancing in your head and then you put on your favorite ratty tee-shirt and jump into bed as excited as can be to have the !kiss*REMOTE*kiss! all to yourself and then as you are fluffing the pillows the remote falls to the floor and slides clear under the nightstand and because you are basically lazy, you try to just lean out of bed and snag the remote off the floor but as you do you lose your balance and with your flailing leg you knock over the lamp on the nightstand which falls to the floor and breaks the light bulb and so there you are in the dark on your belly amid the shards of a busted light bulb groping around for the remote and you feel something fuzzy and so you involuntarily scream and as you do, you bash your head on the underside of the nightstand and then you realize it was just a harmless dust bunny, so you keep groping until you find the wayward remote and as you are working to stand upright, you are slightly amused at all the wasted groping, and as you are rubbing the emerging bump on the back of your head with one hand, the other hand, the one that is holding the remote? That hand you bump on the bed post as you turn to get back in bed which sends it flying into the bathroom onto the tile floor where it busts open and all the batteries fall out and so then you say screw it and go to bed in the dark.

Don’t you just hate when that happens? Yeah. Me too.

23 thoughts on “Don’t You Hate It When…

  1. Thanks for the chuckle this morning. I can totally see that happening to me. I just wish I could write a sentence like that. Very impressive.

  2. Now see … when stuff like this happens to me (and it does quite frequently, I might add) … it usually results in severe injury. On MY part. Never anything as simple as a broken lightbulb. Oh no. More like a broken ankle. Or a torn muscle. Or ripped skin and blood spurting everywhere.

    There’s a reason my husband calls me Calamity Jane!

  3. Total run on sentences….lol.
    We’ve all had a day like that……some more than others!
    I hope things got better for you!
    Happy Friday the 13th!

  4. The only thing that makes it even “better” is when all the flailing, falling, groping, screaming, bumping and shattering wakes up the kid, who then has to crawl into bed with you (even though you are the one who scared him out of his own bed) and proceed to very fitfully sleep perpendicularly.

  5. that sounded so familiar. i do that all the time but not to that degree. usually i just fall off the bed reaching for the remote then reach out to grab the nightstand then knock over my glass of water. now that happens all the time. at least once a week. dang slippery remote.

  6. Ah yes, I am familiar with this paradox. In my house it’s the curse of coffee making. Clean counter. Fill pot with water. Spill water on counter. Wipe counter. Put coffee in cofee maker. Spill coffee grounds on counter. Clean Counter. Wait for coffee to percolate. Spill coffee on counter while pouring into mug. Clean counter.

    I feel your pain.

  7. After all of this…my kids would wake up and I would have to push rewind and start all over….good post..made me laugh

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