A couple of weeks ago, I took a furlough day. What did I do with this wonderful day? I picked weeds.
(Note: Apparently, the NOT IT rule doesn’t work on weed picking. I want to see that fine print, Hubby.)
I used to think it would be amazing to live in the desert because of the lack of lawn maintenance, especially after moving from CT, where we had a yard the size of a medium jungle. Which was OH SO MUCH fun to maintain. So, once we got out West, I had a new-found passion for rocks. You know good ol’ rocks. You don’t have to mow them, you don’t have to clean them, you don’t have to maintain them. They simply just sit there and look pretty, so I thought.
BOY WAS I WRONG. How, you ask?
An infestation of weeds. We are not talking little, tiny weeds we are talking BIG, GYNORMOUS, HUGE Tree weeds. And not only are they HUGE, but their roots and stalks are the width of a paper towel roll. WHA?
Moral of Story: I HATE rocks. They are evil, they are NOT easy to maintain, and I guess I am just not cut out for yard work. AND I am lazy.
NOT IT Rules REINVOKED.
SO, the parents were visiting last weekend. And I was explaining the NOT IT rules to them, which made them laugh. Actually, Hubby and I were having a standoff in regards to the vomit by our bed. See why.
After explaining the rule, while we all watched Hubby clean up the vomit, I learned of the way my parentals dealt with the NOT IT rule way back when (yea, they are old school); it’s weird that they were that clever back in the day.
Dad (talking to Hubby): Ugh I know all to well what it is like to clean up cat puke.
Mom (under her breath): pshaw.
Dad: Yea, I usually had your mom clean up the vomit because I don’t know how.
Me: HA HA HA HA! What do you mean?
Dad: Well, your mother knows what special products to use on the carpet so it wouldn’t stain. I didn’t. So, it was better that she do it.
Me: 1. I don’t believe that and 2. I am going to use that now too!
Hubby: Don’t give her ANY more ideas!
And that, dear readers, is NOT it old school style.
Lesson of the day: Never underestimate me because I am THAT good.
I have just gotten out of bed, despite the fact that the pets have been at me for hours trying to wake me up to feed them—-banging my head, meowing, doing my hair, pawing at the blinds, whining, crying, vomiting, you name it they did it. But, I have not moved, not even flinched in fear of them seeing any sign of movement. It is better they think I am still asleep, so they can move on to torment someone ELSE.
Eventually, Hubby finally gets his sorry you know what out of bed to feed them, after I literally push him out of bed. I mean, it is ME who feeds them all week long, it won’t kill him to do weekend detail.
After he comes back to bed, and I get up, he sidesteps the vomit and snidely says:
Hubby: NOT IT!
Me: Doesn’t count!
Hubby: Yes it does!
Me: Nope, I called sometime around 4:30ish AM, not my fault you didn’t hear it. So, you already lost your chance.
Hubby: It doesn’t count if I don’t hear it.
Me: Yes it does…because you were right by me…you just CHOSE not hear me. IT COUNTS!
UPDATE: Rae heard me call NOT IT at 4:30. I WIN.