Holy Toledo

There's a stack of papers a foot high I've been weeding through- my kids school folders threw up all over my floor.  I think we should reinstitute the slate tablet in schools.  A lot less paper waste.  Most of what my kids lug home is garbage, with intermittent notes to remind me to send in a permission slip or a special snack or some extra glue sticks.  Glue sticks are an integral part of the first-grade experience. 

This is one of many reasons I haven't been blogging. 

If I may be honest, I've kind of checked out of life for the past month or so.  I emerge from the hovel I live in to deliver kids to school, to stock up on basic necessities, and... that's about it.  I've been ignoring phone calls, e-mails, get-togethers of most types and text messages.  The ignoring of text messages is not purposeful; I have a new phone, and I'm not actually sure how to access text messages.  It's a very complicated device.  When I finally learn how to use it, I will essentially have a medical license and an engineering degree.  I will build myself a skyscraper where I will perform brain surgeries, thanks to this phone.  

Instead of being a responsible adult, I have been either a) sleeping or b) watching the movie Paul on HBO.  That's about it.  John has been so pleased.

Two days ago, I lifted papers from atop the answering machine (I prefer the old-fashioned answering machine to voice mail.  I tried voice mail for a while.  I found it tedious.)  The machine had been blinking red for weeks.  With great trepidation, I pressed "play."  The thing spoke to me. 

"You have 78 messages," it said.

"Holy Toledo," I said.

"What's a Toledo?" Dan asked.

"It's a city in Ohio," I said.

"Can you eat it?" Dan asked.

I ended the conversation there.  It wasn't going anywhere.

I was, however, incredibly impressed by my answering machine's storage capacity.  Sometimes, a phrase like "You have 78 messages" is just the thing one needs to hear to check back into life.   Also, I think my new meds are kicking in.  There has been a lot less sleeping and a lot more vacuuming of dog hair from the furniture. 

Today, I may even venture to Rite Aid to buy some glue sticks.  Heck, I might start blogging again.

You never know.