I don't know what's wrong with me.

I was in Super Target on Friday with HannahC buying celery, bleu cheese dressing, and English muffins (the first time I've ever bought groceries at a Target), and I saw a young couple shopping, and the woman was holding a little, dinky baby boy all wrapped up in a blanket, and I thought to myself, "Awwww...a baaaaaby."

Somebody get me a doctor.

Somebody give me a shot.

Today is the day I got to learn about white spa mold. I'm telling you, a hot tub is more work than a swimming pool.

We also went to see Santa. This was the first year ever that MaxieC wasn't too afraid of Santa to talk to him. They both asked for things they aren't getting, so I imagine this will be the last year of magical Santa and the beginning of a life of jaded cynicism.

Welcome to my world, Childrens. Stay a while. Can I interest you in a big plateful of taken-for-granted while you're here?

The Childrens are in some Christmas-on-ice pageant. I don't know why. HannahC is playing three roles, my favorite of which is the one she calls, "Party Girl," though it's probably supposed to be referred to as "Girl at Party." MaxieC must suffice with but two roles, though one of them is the little brother who breaks the nutcracker. I can't remember the name of the character, so I call him "Hans," after the guy in Die Hard.

The Mrs. took The Childrens to rehearsal for four hours today. I was assigned many many tasks during that time, lest I enjoy my weekend or time away from The Family. One task was that I had to go to The UPS Store to buy 2 cu. ft. of styrofoam packing peanuts. I took the dog with me, since he was hanging around looking all bored.

The moment I set foot back in the garage, my cell rang. It was The Mrs. She was at the rehearsal, and MaxieC was done, so she wanted my to deliver her a Starbucks, cuz there's a Starbucks inside the Safeway next to The UPS Store. We had a delightful little chat about how I wasn't going to drive all the way back into town, pick her up a Starbucks, then turn around and drive in the exact opposite direction to deliver a Starbucks to the ice rink.

She got all pouty and everything, but I still hadn't tackled task #2: run the carpet cleaner on the basement and family room carpets, making sure to move all furniture and not just clean around it.

I suggested a Moxie Java, since there is one literally one block from the ice rink. The Mrs. spent some time trying to convince me to drive from our house, past the ice rink for a block, pick up a Moxie Java, then deliver it to her. I was almost going to do this until she told me to get her a half-caffeine/half-decaf coffee. I'm like, "I can't order that. I'm a man. They'll laugh at me." It's like being sent to the store for tampons. Super size ones, not the slender.

Hypothetical Me, CherkyB: "Excuse me, ma'am. Just how big are these super-size tampons?"

Hypthetical Clerk: "Oh, they expand quite a bit."

H M, CB: "Like how big?"

H C: "I dunno. Like an inch. [holds her fingers apart about 1/2 inch]"

H M, CB: "An inch? My son wears a size 3 hat, and he's only 4 years old."

H C: "Ummm...I think they'll be, uh, OK."

H M, CB: "What aisle are the paper towel rolls on? I'm not making two trips."

The Mrs. finally asked me where exactly Moxie Java was. So I explained that it was in the gas station on the right, not the one on the left, as she headed towards the highway from the ice rink. "Oh that's really close. I guess I could go the myself."

Ya think?

So, she needs directions that are in excruciating detail because, like pretty much every woman, she lives her life largely by reflex and not through any sort of conscious, ongoing thought. (Though I'll probably get Angry Thespian bitching at me about the evils of "linear thought" and how "logic" is a patriarchal construction designed to oppress womens but, you know, I really am not too concerned about taking criticism from someone who lives in Nevada.)

"Turn into the gas station. Then, if you circle around the right side of the building, there is a drive-through window. Don't go around the left, cuz that goes to the carwash."

The Mrs. queried, "Oh. Where the Sandy's is?"

"Yes. I think there's a Sandy's in there, too."

Later:

The Mrs.: "I had a hard time finding Moxie Java."

Me, CherkyB: "Why? It's in the gas station right where I told you it was."

The Mrs.: "It's in the Sandy's."

Me, CherkyB: "The Sandy's is in the gas station, too."

The Mrs.: "No. It's in the building."

Me, CherkyB: "There's only one building. It's a gas station, and in it, it has a Sandy's and a Moxie Java. Did you circle around the right of the building like I told you to?"

The Mrs.: "I expected there to be a big sign."

Oh, for fuck's sake.