Just Some Lil’ Vignettes

I feel like I left things on kind of a heavy note last time. So, I feel obligated to lighten things up with a post that’s soft and fluffy like the best chocolate buttercream frosting to celebrate the end of 2020. I’d call them vignettes, but I really think they’re more like vinognettes, as in, these stories go better with a drink or just make me want to…

My 16-year-old son had to ask where the toilet paper was kept. He’s 16. Living in the only house he’s ever lived in AND HE HAD NO IDEA WHERE TO FIND TOILET PAPER. I think it’s time for someone to pick up more chores, including possibly minister of TP, which would put him in charge of restocking all the bathrooms and I guess that title would make him a dooplimat. HAAAAAA! Get it?! Instead of a diplomat. Eh, leave me alone. I’m very tired and the pun could have been a lot worse.

•                 •                         •

In addition to everything else clogging up my desk — a referral to an oral surgeon for wisdom teeth removal, what appears to be a study guide for a super boring class (European history? Yup, that checks out), a Shutterfly coupon, three felt Christmas trees, Star Wars Pez dispensers I just found and I have no idea where they came from or how old they are but it literally has to be years, possibly even a decade, and they’re still filled with candy that my son happily scarfed — there’s also a sports bra wadded up in the corner. Mine. I wore it all day for no reason and I was so angry when I realized this (because it’s stupidly uncomfortable and you only truly recognize this fact after you’re done exercising because that is the only part of your body you can still feel after a tough workout) that I pulled it off right then and there and left it next to the pencil sharpener.

                                                   •                               •                            •

Me: How was school today?

The 16-year-old: I had a great two-period nap.

                                                   •                               •                              •

As a treat one morning, No. 1 and I stopped to pick up our favorite scones from a local coffee shop. We tore into them as soon as we slid into the car on our way to drop off cookies for friends. The scones, as usual, were amazing. No. 1 would pull off a piece with that crackling crisp outside and fluffy inside and studded with soft, bites of green apple and perfectly toasted pecans and pass it over to me and then she’d eat a piece and we’d both sigh happily. During one handoff, I lost a money bite. It dropped right as I was getting ready to shove it in my mouth. At a stop light, I checked my lap, underneath my legs. No sign of it. I was pretty bummed. Then, we hopped out of the car to leave the treats on our friends’ doorstep and as I waved to them from an appropriate social distance, I felt something slide down my sleeve. 


I fished it out and popped it into my mouth right then and there. No regrets.

                                                 •                                 •                           •

So No. 1 came home from college, and she brought home her first b…asil plant!

It actually looked pretty healthy when she first plopped it on the kitchen counter the day before Thanksgiving. Now, not so much.

I learned from a friend — who’s a Plant Lady and has the cross-stitch to prove it — that you are not supposed to pluck off every leaf from the plant just to make basil-lemon mayo for sandwiches. So now, he truly looks like his namesake because he’s balding and skinny. My daughter dubbed him — wait for it — Jeff Basil. 

                                                •                           •                               •

Our refrigerator has been purring loudly, which would be cute if it was actually a cat but it’s not. Because of its highly unusual behavior, we called out a repairman who discovered it indeed had an issue — an ice cream sandwich had fallen and wedged itself in the back keeping something important from happening (I was not the one who actually dealt with the repairman). Which is kinda funny but mostly embarrassing. My husband reported that the repairman, when offered, declined the ice cream sandwich.

• • •

So, the 16-year-old was loudly bragging that he was the best of the kid drivers in the house. It wasn’t even two days later that he hit the house.

• • •

Happy holidays, everyone! No matter what you celebrate! Be safe! Be kind! Here’s to a less COVIDy, less socially distanced new year. 

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