On Friday, I snapped!
We’ve lived in this 25 year old house for 8 years now, and on Friday I walked into the laundry room and decided “Enough is enough!”
I present to you The Worst Laundry Room in America…
It’s like the room is the spin cycle.
I started ripping off shelves, hooks, wallpaper…anything that I could break or tear with my bare hands. I must admit, I looked a little unhinged but it felt great…until I pulled a muscle in my neck while screaming “Die! Die! Die!” a little too enthusiastically.
When Brian came home and walked into the laundry room, he clutched his wallet and cried “What was wrong with the laundry room the way it was?” I assured him that I could do this on a *budget.
*I’m sure my idea of a budget is much more realistic than his, so we’ll just go by mine.
On Saturday, I took a break from the laundry room project and we went to a corn maze…at a winery! C’mon, you didn’t see that coming?
This was the same corn maze we went to last year, the one where I got lost with the kids for hours and quietly decided which one I would eat first if we were stranded for days.
What’s the most ridiculous and least helpful phrase one can utter while in a corn maze? (which was heard no less than 50 times)
“This looks familiar…follow me.”
Familiar? Really? You remember encountering that right hand turn surrounded by those cornstalks? Well, that’s freaking faaanstastic!!! Hallelujah, it looks familiar!!! I can almost taste the Chardonnay that’s waiting for me back at the picnic table. Well, lead the way, Pocahontas.
We also did corn cob shooting. But of course, right?
This bike thingy. Ana treated the track like her own personal roller derby, running people off the road at every opportunity.
And then there’s this, a paint can of wine.
And this is what happens when a group of mommies drink wine next to a bounce house…
There were chickens. Why? I have no clue.
“Mom, I wish we had chickens that pooped out eggs for us.” Me too, Ana, me too.
Not surprisingly, aided by children, the chickens later escaped and fled to the woods. But surprisingly, Ana was not involved. I did, however, inform a winery employee who looked shocked and said, “I don’t even know what to do with that information, this has never happened before. DAVE! THE CHICKENS ARE GONE!”
I started to walk away but, deciding to take this rare opportunity, I turned around and smugly said, “Oh, and my daughter had nothing to do with it.” That felt weird.
On Sunday, I painted that son-of-a-bitch!
And I’ve got bigger and better plans for this room, stay tuned! (I think I heard Brian cry)