Playing Battleships with Second Son (especially finishing the game that he started with his brother, before school this morning) while supposed to be fun, actually raises my stress level significantly. You would think that he would be happy that his brother set all his ships up in one location, because once he started hitting, he really started hitting. EXCEPT, he couldn’t figure out the configuration, and so even though he was hitting, he couldn’t understand how he had only managed to sink a small ship.Most kids would just keep on playing, happy that ever guess was resulting in a hit. Not Second Son. He questioned, he badgered, he quit. He’s a lot of fun.
The other night, while sleeping, I was awoken by a sound that can only be described as a sheet of ice breaking loose, sliding off my roof, and then, hitting the ground. I was slightly horrified, but when the noise stopped, I figured it was best to go back to sleep rather than get up and risk not falling asleep again. My husband thought this was strange, but if I got up, even if I did find something amiss, what was I going to do about it in the middle of the night?
When I woke up the next morning, I fully expected to find that something had fallen off the house, or a piece of space junk lying in the yard. I put my coat on over my bathrobe and walked the perimeter of the house, but alas, found nothing. I did this several times throughout the day, certain that I eventually I would find something, but I never did. Now, I’m just left wondering what the hell it was.
Next year, I’m thinking about switching Little Lady back to the preschool the boys attended. I miss the small community and lived in feel of the small Christian school she attended. Then, yesterday, I arrived early to pick up, and watched as fifteen little people in their coats, hats, and gloves, were walking around the large school yard with homemade binoculars (painted toilet paper rolls), “winter watching,” and I have to tell you, it was the sweetest thing I’ve seen in a long time. I know I’ve said it before, but I really love her teacher, and the fact that they go outside almost everyday. At the boys’ old school, if you got a teacher who was adverse to the cold weather, or bright sunlight, or humidity, then you never saw the postage sized playground.
I got my vents cleaned last week. I think it made my allergies worse (or else I’ve got the longest lingering cold ever). The funny thing about this, is that I got the vents cleaned not because my allergies were acting up, but because everyone else’s were. I don’t notice much difference in them, but I do in myself. My theory, the air funneling through my vents had found a nice pathway around the dust that had settled in over the past twenty years. Cleaning them disturbed the whole pathway, thus blowing that dust in the air, out the vents, and all over my house. As for that giant vacuum they used, I don’t know how effective a vacuum can be that has a tube that extended from their van in the driveway, through my second story window, and then into the attic.
Speaking of second story windows, I’m waiting for my dad to replace my bedroom windows (dad, I hope you’re reading this). They are so drafty that my curtains actually move when it’s windy outside. Lately, it’s been worse. I’ve been sleeping under multiple blankets and wearing my bathrobe. In fact, the other night it was so windy and cold that I thought the whole window was going to come crashing down. Then, today, while opening my shades, I made a discovery, the air duct cleaners never locked the window they opened, and so, the top part of window had slid down leaving a two inch opening. That explains a lot.
Have a great weekend.