Boy, can an evening ever go downhill fast around here.
I spent about 4 hours or so outside painting our fence. Not a bad use of a lovely summer day, if I do say so myself, plus I got a big part of my summer project out of the way.
So I come inside to find Garrett complaining about a headache and generally feeling sick, so there go our plans for the drive-in movie tonight. No biggie. We've had a busy day and the movie wasn't starting until quite late.
Now Kara is in a bit of a 'I don't like to wear clothes or diapers' kind of mood lately, so I had to clean up some pee on the basement floor when she decided to engage in her usual after dinner exhibition. This isn't the bad part. No, this is perfectly fine and relatively normal for us so I didn't pay it any mind.
So the kids have their baths and we come downstairs to fire up Ice Age on DVD for a consolation movie. Here's where the evening goes ker-plooie.
Firstly, Garrett pukes. All over the chair. Then he pukes again, only a little to the left (and perilously close to me). Then he pukes AGAIN on the way to the sink.
So we get everything cleaned up and Garrett has stopped erupting and the movie is starting, so I settle down in my chair to toss a Tweet up or update the blog. That's when the phone rings.
I could hear some laughing in the background and figured it might be one of Garrett's friends calling, since it definately wasn't work. Nope. Instead I get some teenage-sounding girl on the phone.
Me: "Um, who is this?"
Her: "Don't you know who I am? It's your lover!"
Me: "Uh... No." (click)
Julie walks into the room right then and laughed when I told her about the call. Then the phone rings again.
Her: "Hey, it's me, your secret lover."
Me: "If you call me again, I'm calling the police." (click)
So that was wierd. I was tempted to *69 the call, but Julie said it costs $20 (or maybe 25 cents) so I figured I'd wait until my secret lover called back and THEN I'd drop the hammer... So far, no call backs.
Now all of this is happening in something like a 10 minute span, I'm hot, I'm tired, I'm hungry and all I can smell is bile and puke stink. Garrett's busy trying not to throw up and Kara has FINALLY gone to bed.
I decide to chronicle these odd happenings on ye olde blog and pull out the keyboard tray to start typing this very post up. That's when I notice that nothing is happening when I type. Nada, zero, zilch.
My keyboard is dead.
I mean, c'mon man. WTF!?!
I would be fine with any of these things happening on their own, but stacked up back-to-back like this and on an empty stomach? No way.
So I fight with the computer, plugging the keyboard into a bunch of different USB plugs to no avail. Thankfully I had the laptop and after some futzing about with this thing, I did get the keyboard working again. Now to try plugging it back into the desktop to see if it was just a matter of a crimped cord or something fundamentally wrong with the PC. I'm about ready to toss that hunk of junk into a lake as it is, so we'll see. At least I know that the keyboard still works...
Pardon the bitching and moaning. Like I was telling Julie, if this is the worst I have to deal with in a day, I'll thank my lucky stars and be happy I don't live in Darfur or the other side of Acton. It's just annoying!