I’m a busy work at home mom and I have a lot of things to remember. I have endless lists of things I must not forget but sometimes I forget to write things down and my thoughts come in panic stricken flashes of something that MUST BE DONE NOW OR AT LEAST LATER TODAY OR WE ARE ALL DOOMED.
My professional life is tightly scheduled but my personal life is pretty much in shambles from a scheduling-remembering-sh*t perspective. I also don’t drink very often. I don’t have time for hangovers and I don’t like feeling sick the next day and quite frankly I’m kinda cheap. Anyways, this is information you need to know to understand the following vignettes into my life.
I am lying in bed, casually drinking the latte that was delivered to my nightstand because my boyfriend is amazing. He also made the syrup for it from scratch. He’s ALL MINE. He does the school runs and today, when he returned and found me still in bed, he decided to come back to bed and join me. He was curled up with me, gazing at me lovingly when I suddenly blurted “WE NEED A SALAD!” He was like “What?” *slow blink*
My timing was… not ideal. It was not salad reminder blurting time. Like at all at all. I explained that my son has a church potluck tonight and I needed to not forget to buy a salad to send with him… or maybe a fruit tray. I could tell resisting the urge to explain situationally appropriate conversation was KILLING HIM. He’s trying to be romantic and I am reminded of a plate of cold carrot sticks and dip. It came in one of those panic flashes and I blurted.
He was not to be outdone. He doubled down and a plan for a potential business opportunity was hatched.
Pornographic Potluck Reminders.
Stay with me.
So you have a list on your phone of all the things you have to get done. It’s easy to forget, snooze the reminders, the dog ate your homework. But, if someone called you and talked all breathy “Remember the Cobb salad” like a 1-900 operator YOU WOULD REMEMBER THE SALAD. That’s the kind of sh*t you don’t forget. You would never show up at a party empty handed. Cobb salad would be burned in your brain. Or we could snapchat something really salacious with the caption PICK UP AMBROSIA FOR TODAY’S PICNIC OR AUNT MARTHA WILL BE REALLY DISAPPOINTED. (can we get that much text on a snapchat? This part of the plan may need some more work)
So basically, all of today, my boyfriend has been moaning the word SALAD at me. THIS IS MY LIFE PEOPLE. I am trying to remember what the made from scratch latte syrup tastes like as the people in the grocery store give us judge-y side eye.
He reminded me that this is not the most random conversation we have ever had in bed. He was right. There was that one time…
We went to a vodka party. It was awesome. Drinks were flowing. There were cute appies. He was the designated driver, I was the designated slightly intoxicated consumer of cute creampuffs. I regaled him with the story of the time SmashleyAshley woke her husband from a dead sleep because of her fear of food poisoning by creampuff. You can read about that here. She is my soul sister. He and her husband Justin need to form a support group.
At any rate, we went home and went to bed because I was very tired. Vodka, cream puffs plus long car ride = sleepy Allie. We were getting cozy and he curled up behind me all big spoon and I vaguely remember complaining, “MOVE YOUR LEG FROM BEING WEDGED BETWEEN MINE IT’S ALL PRICKLY. IT FEELS LIKE I’M STRADDLING A CACTUS.” In the stillness of the night, I could hear him slow blinking. “NOT THAT I HAVE EVER PERSONALLY STRADDLED A CACTUS.” *continued awkward silence* “WELL OF COURSE I’VE NEVER STRADDLED A CACTUS WHY AM I CLARIFYING THIS?” I fell asleep and he laid awake, I imagine, wondering how he got SO LUCKY so as to be with me.
He likes to remind me of this moment whenever we see a cactus – like in a garden store, and he will be like “remember the time you straddled a cactus?” and people get all protective of their succulents like they might be in danger or something.
Anyways, if you ever wonder what it’s like to be me, it’s writing stuff down, blurting out pornographic salad reminders and drunken babbling about straddling cacti, but not often, because ain’t nobody got time for that.
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