There are some things that I always buy when I go to the grocery store. I don't necessarily buy them because I need them; I just think that I need them. Even if I check the cupboards and make a list there are a few items that yell to me when I see them while shopping and they say, "You are out of me! Buy me or you'll regret it!"
I currently have two 24 packs of toilet paper, three jars of peanut butter, three jars of strawberry preserves (all Archer Farms brand), five cans of re-fried beans, four jars of salsa and too many rolls of paper towels to count. Oh and I have two boxes each of Cheerios, Rice Krispies and Raisin Bran.
When will I learn?
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Showing posts with label Talents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Talents. Show all posts
7.16.2009
8.27.2008
Laundry and I don't get along
Laundry? Not my forte, although not the only thing that isn't my forte, as previously discussed. I didn't realize how bad I am at it until Megan O, my other mother Jill, Mom and I started talking about it the other day. Sorting colors and selecting water temp/cycle/load size etc are easy peasy but beyond that I struggle. On a fairly regular basis I either start the washing machine without adding detergent and or I don't start the dryer after transferring my clothes until I two hours have gone by and I realize the buzzer still hasn't sounded. Dryer sheets? I've just stopped buying any; remembering to put them in with my clothes is just beyond me.
One of my worst laundry moments came when my mom was at The Stanford House one. I mistakenly blamed her on my mental block. When I went downstairs to check on a load I had started, the washing machine lid was open and my poor clothes were floating in a few gallons of water. "MOM! Why did you open the washing machine? My clothes are drowning!" I shouted up the stairs at her.
"Caley," she patiently responded from the basement door, "I didn't touch your washing machine. I have been up here with you the whole time." For at least 3-4 minutes I stood in front of my laundry soup until I figured out that when I was the one who hadn't shut the top after pulling the start knob, causing it to stall just before the spin cycle. Impressive.
I also have a new found talent for being an idiot when making the bed. The other day I actually managed to successfully wash and dry my amazing organic sheets (and I'm not exaggerating, they are really amazing, kind of silky without being sleazy and the perfect summer weight). OK, fine, I'll admit it, I may have transferred the sheets into the dryer and then left for the evening without turning on the dryer. Coming home at 10:30 to soggy sheets and an unmade bed was not cool. After I finally drying my sheets and making the bed, my phone disappeared. I called and could hear it ring but couldn't see it anywhere. Not under the bed, not in my top drawer, not under the pillows, nowhere. Seven consecutive calls later I gave up and flopped down. Cue princess and the pea: I felt the phone jabbing me from underneath my fitted sheet. "Good job," I thought to myself. "Well done."
Talent. Pure talent.
One of my worst laundry moments came when my mom was at The Stanford House one. I mistakenly blamed her on my mental block. When I went downstairs to check on a load I had started, the washing machine lid was open and my poor clothes were floating in a few gallons of water. "MOM! Why did you open the washing machine? My clothes are drowning!" I shouted up the stairs at her.
"Caley," she patiently responded from the basement door, "I didn't touch your washing machine. I have been up here with you the whole time." For at least 3-4 minutes I stood in front of my laundry soup until I figured out that when I was the one who hadn't shut the top after pulling the start knob, causing it to stall just before the spin cycle. Impressive.
I also have a new found talent for being an idiot when making the bed. The other day I actually managed to successfully wash and dry my amazing organic sheets (and I'm not exaggerating, they are really amazing, kind of silky without being sleazy and the perfect summer weight). OK, fine, I'll admit it, I may have transferred the sheets into the dryer and then left for the evening without turning on the dryer. Coming home at 10:30 to soggy sheets and an unmade bed was not cool. After I finally drying my sheets and making the bed, my phone disappeared. I called and could hear it ring but couldn't see it anywhere. Not under the bed, not in my top drawer, not under the pillows, nowhere. Seven consecutive calls later I gave up and flopped down. Cue princess and the pea: I felt the phone jabbing me from underneath my fitted sheet. "Good job," I thought to myself. "Well done."
Talent. Pure talent.
7.23.2008
Talents (or lack thereof)
I have many talents. The following things are not among them...
Driving directions. Giving them, following them, reversing them to get home: I can do none of these things. Nothin. I can navigate subways in foreign countries with no problem but thank goodness for Garmin here on American roads.
Choosing Tupperware for leftovers. I'm generally pretty good with spacial relationships but for some reason I never pick the right size Tupperware for the amount of food I have left. I either pick one too small and my pasta spills over the edges, or an uneaten fillet looks tiny in my giant plastic container.
"Name the artist" music game. I realize this isn't an actual game, just a made up one people play in the car but I am still awful at it. Doesn't matter if you pick songs off the radio or an ipod, my brain cannot make the connection between the music I hear and the name of the artist who is playing it. Cannot. Can. Not.
If you need someone to McGiver a ripped dress back together with hair pins and painters tape, I'm your girl. Need help choosing the perfect shade of paint for your living room? Pick me! Pick me! There are many situations in which my random skills come in very handy. But if you need to know how to get somewhere, help packaging up food, or the name of the band who plays that one song...I am not your girl. Do not pick me.
Driving directions. Giving them, following them, reversing them to get home: I can do none of these things. Nothin. I can navigate subways in foreign countries with no problem but thank goodness for Garmin here on American roads.
Choosing Tupperware for leftovers. I'm generally pretty good with spacial relationships but for some reason I never pick the right size Tupperware for the amount of food I have left. I either pick one too small and my pasta spills over the edges, or an uneaten fillet looks tiny in my giant plastic container.
"Name the artist" music game. I realize this isn't an actual game, just a made up one people play in the car but I am still awful at it. Doesn't matter if you pick songs off the radio or an ipod, my brain cannot make the connection between the music I hear and the name of the artist who is playing it. Cannot. Can. Not.
If you need someone to McGiver a ripped dress back together with hair pins and painters tape, I'm your girl. Need help choosing the perfect shade of paint for your living room? Pick me! Pick me! There are many situations in which my random skills come in very handy. But if you need to know how to get somewhere, help packaging up food, or the name of the band who plays that one song...I am not your girl. Do not pick me.
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