Today was weird. Or, yesterday. Let’s just cover all my bases and say I’m weird. My daughter was up with a high fever last night, shivering and talking nonsense and asking if great grandpa will be in a bucket of water. She heard me explain to my son about cremation, and how the ashes are kept in an urn. I’m not sure why the water was part of this in her mind, but I tried to clear things up- not sure my mom or grandma need to hear her confused thoughts on the matter. In response, she laid her head in my lap and told me I was pretty and that the big bad wolf tried to eat her oatmeal.
Church was a fiasco. Or, it would have been if I’d been mentally present. I vaguely remember class in the church basement and the sound of a herd of elephants passing through upstairs, but I have no idea what topic we discussed over the noise; it might have been marriage, or it might have been hoarding, or maybe both.
My husband has been booking hotels and adulting for me while I cleaned the house like a zombie. Maybe I mean robot- not sure zombies get around to much cleaning. And I’ve definitely never met one that can pick up a pancake. Except...I mean, probably they COULD, but why would they bother? I’ve never seen a zombie eat a pancake. I don’t think they’re really all that into carbs. Is that what happens when the Atkins diet goes wrong? Zombies who won’t pick up a pancake? Maybe they’re the ones who threw the pancake on the floor in the first place. Maybe it was a protest against carbs for breakfast. Maybe they’re demanding steak and eggs but they just can’t say it.
I have no idea where I was going with this. Maybe it’s past my bedtime.