Today is Valentine’s Day! You know what that means …
That’s right! Tomorrow is 70% off chocolates day!
We all know that proud, overly-sharing parent, the one who is amazed their child can do perfectly ordinary things. “My daughter Marjorie can add up to ten!” Your daughter Marjorie is in college, Karen. “Look at little Timmy read this book!” It’s a picture book, Barbara.
If you’re like me, you want to back-end every car sporting a “My Kid is an Honor Roll Student” bumper sticker, and you snicker at the “My Kid Beat Up Your Honor Roll Student.” I have a new bumper sticker: My Super Smart Dog Bit Your Honor Roll Student.
If you ask me, there’s not enough focus on the truly smart animals in our lives. Anyone who thinks animals can’t count has never tried to give three biscuits to a dog who is used to getting four at a time. The internet abounds with videos of horses counting and even if it is a trick of clever training, the idea that a horse can be trained to appear to count is pretty freaking amazing.
Recently, a family member was gushing about her toddler who knew where the pretzels were kept in the house. She even went so far as to surreptitiously record her child in this endeavor to share with the audience. This tiny human marvel could even open the pantry door and get the pretzel jar, but the act of unscrewing the tightly closed lid thwarted her adorably chubby little hands.
Awww, isn’t that cute.
My dog knows where the treats are. He opens the kitchen cabinet, gets his treats, opens the box, and eats his fill. I will admit, he hasn’t quite grasped the idea that cleaning up after himself might be to his advantage. At the least, as I keep explaining to him, it would buy him some time before being found out. I had to put childproof locks on drawers and doors and everything in between to foil my cat, the ne’er-do-well, who is apparently a master locksmith and can open any barrier placed in front of her. So long as she wants whatever is behind it, that is. My friend shakes her head sadly when telling me about her German Shepherd who can unlock door handles, open the door, and go into any room she likes. Baby gates? Pfftt. It’s like you’re not even trying. Cabinets and drawers and off-limit rooms are nothing to these animals, so while I think it’s adorable that your toddler can find the pretzels, I am holding my applause for now.
Don’t get me wrong, I know kids are smart. Heck, I’ve had two kids raise and train me perfectly. I just think it’s funny when over-effusive parents boast about ordinary milestones in a completely unironic way. “Look, she’s only 144 months old and she can recite the alphabet!”
Yeah, Lois, very nice. Can you hold the cat while I call the vet? She opened my locked bedroom door, climbed a ladder, cracked my wall safe, and got into the treats that I thought were for sure out of reach this time. And let me know if you’ve seen the dog, my car keys are missing, and I think he drove down the street to see that damn poodle. Again.
Don’t even get me started on that horse next door who keeps blowing the whistle on my trips to the refrigerator at night; I never should have gotten him binoculars for Christmas.
Speak now, while there’s still time to make reservations! Oh wait, they don’t make reservations at the comic book store? Okay, well. Never mind.
I’m not sure why people always have their deepest, most sincere and profound thoughts in the bathroom. Men are famous for flushing the toilet, opening the door and announcing, “I just thought of something.” For women, we do our best thinking for the shower.
Sometimes, shower thoughts are genius: We could solve world hunger if cow manure was edible.
Other times, they are life-changing: I am going to invest my tax refund wisely instead of buying another pair of shoes.
And sometimes, they are rambling, incoherent, and pointless.
Ladies and gentlemen, I devote this entry to my rambling, incoherent and pointless Shower Thoughts. Lucky you!
Okay, so where do you do your best thinking? Any Shower Thoughts you’d like to share? Feel free to spill, folks! I’m always looking for proof that I’m not the only one with a mind like a mouse in a maze!
This has to be the Monday-est Monday that ever Monday-ed. I’m trying to stay positive. By that I mean, I’m trying really, really, really, really hard not to stab anyone. Wish me luck, people.
I know I just wrote about RVs recently and it’s not exactly a topic to expand on, but here we are, expanding. Why, you ask? Well, because apparently Facebook overheard our conversation or caught me “thinking” about RVs and decided to throw a gazillion ads at me to show me the life I’ve been missing. I’m still not sure how Facebook manages to get inside my head, but that’s a topic for another day.
I will admit, some of the ads for tricked-out RV homes sort of reinforced the crazy notion of quitting the 9 to 5 life and hitting the road. I can see why people would choose the open road, permanently. Obviously, this isn’t my first or even best dream. But hey, If I can’t pull up stakes and move to Ireland, then I wouldn’t mind travelling America’s highways like Jack Kerouac.
What’s my plan, you ask? Why, purchasing one of the exorbitantly priced, grand motor homes Facebook, in all of its algorithmic wisdom, felt I was qualified for (both mentally and financially, presumably, which just goes to show, Facebook is stupid).
If I’m going on the ultimate road trip, you’d better believe I’m going to do it in style… and in such a luxurious manner that the locals will ask, “Who was that woman?” whenever I pass through their town. Yeah, sure, that’s what they’ll say. What they won’t be saying is, “Who was that annoying tourist with the obnoxious, oversized RV who took up 50 parking spots at the Piggly Wiggly!?”
I’ve done a lot of research (insofar as I skimmed the ads Facebook so kindly showed me) and have decided on the motor home that will fit my personality … which, knowing how my personality changes from day to day, came down to either a Chinook pop-up tent mounted on the back of a scuffed-up 1998 Ford Ranger, OR a completely pimped-out 29-ton, 45-foot-long, 600 HP, 732 square foot hunka hunka burnin’ love called the EleMMent Palazzo Superior. It looks like a brick-shaped Cyclops coming at you at 80mph. Awesome, right!?
Of course, it will have a few of the creature comforts to which I feel entitled. At least two 42” flat screen TVs, a waterfall shower, a king size bed, 800-gallon fresh water tank, at least one bar, and oh, global Wi-Fi (the importance of which, I believe I’ve mentioned before). Heated floors? Yes, please. The 732 square foot interior seems a little small, but since the master bedroom is separate from the rest of the coach, I could, in theory, accommodate five “overnighters.” Get your minds out of the gutter… I’m talking book club, here!
I plan on adding some of my own, small personal touches … as you can see here. I mean, after all, this will be my new home!
Another feature that caused me to fall in love with this behemoth is the nifty little sky lounge that emerges, with the touch of a button, on the roof. How cool is that!?
The Sky Lounge will also have a bar (okay, so if you’re keeping track, that’s two bars) and a fireplace. In case I want to pass out while taking in the sights, the couches can be used as beds, because of course they can.
Okay, okay, I know what some of you are thinking:
Yep, that’s it. That thing is amazingly, ridiculously, laughably expensive. No kidding, the starting price sits at $3,000,000.
Why on earth any advertising algorithm in their right mind would target me for this is beyond understanding.
I’ve got it handled, though, just so you know. I plan on winning the next Mega-Millions Lottery. I had a dream last night that showed me the numbers, so I’m putting all my money into tickets. I’m sure to win – I mean, this is my well thought out retirement plan, it can’t fail, right?