Remember how I won the greatest battle of my marriage by teaching my son to tie knots in my husband’s trail of socks?
Victory is so short-lived these days.
And yes I do have special “I’m moving” socks because I had a period in my life where I moved 17-18 times in 10 years. Sometimes some of us might think that moving dorm rooms, apartments or states might fix everything. The answer is “no,” but old habits die long, drawn-out deaths much like marriage sock battles.
But we will never leave our current home because we are slowly adding everything we need to live off the grid: environmentally friendly roof shingles so we don’t need air-conditioning, a zombie tree fort so we don’t need Area 51, a garden and compost so we don’t need city trash, and special insulation in the attic and crawl space so we don’t need heat or sometime to catch rats (yes one did die in it and yes it was horrific in many, many ways).
All I need to figure out now is how to run our wireless Internet on a treadmill of cats, and we are set for life.
Wait, forget it. I just googled it. Cats on treadmills makes me sad. However, it is possible that all exercise makes me sad since it does make me itchy, but I think those cats don’t even know they’re exercising. That’s just WRONG.
Okay, I’m going to power my wireless Internet with dance moves instead. I have a few sweet moves picked out thanks to an incident on Monday. My daughter is a fashionista as I already bragged about so I let her pick out my outfit that day. She chose the matching dresses she and Scott found a few months ago, and I agreed to over text thinking we’d never leave the house in them.
I was wrong as anyone who saw us Monday can attest, and my son took a picture (although we’re in the house so it proves nothing except that he and I have the same photographic skills).
But because N is cooler than me, I just embraced our matching-ness as anyone can see in E’s 6 second video of the matching dress dance.
He, however, is the McKayla of our house — unimpressed. He is the me my matching dress dance left behind.
To sum this post all up? I will be powering my house with dance moves, never-ending sock vendettas and terrible photography skills, and we will be looking good, or at least very similar, doing it.
But E will continue to be unimpressed.