Thank You.

One time long ago (who the hell knows when), I was very much looking forward to writing 48 thank you notes for Ari's birthday gifts. "Why, why would anyone want to write thank you notes?" you wonder. Because it is a rest--you have to sit down to do it. I had actually tried to write them while unloading the dishwasher, going for a little jog, folding laundry, and washing Ari's hair. Mixed results. Finally, I had to stop. Multi-tasking is a Slippery Slope! If you aren't careful, you will soon be texting while driving, eating spaghetti in the bath tub, texting House-guests while gardening, and losing your phone in the soil! Many unfortunate things might occur. Plus! You don't get your thank you notes written.

It had been five weeks, and I needed to focus. So, I begged B to do something with Ari and sat down with my thank you notes. By the time my butt hit the chair I realized she had the list of who'd given what in her phone, so I texted her to send it.

While I waited for the list, I noticed the cat in the corner, performing her catly function of repeatedly barfing. I considered getting up to clean it, but then thought it best to wait for another round because there is nothing worse than cleaning up the cat barf and then having to do it all again once you realize she wasn't finished. 

The list arrived, and I decided to print it so that I wouldn't have to scroll and delete and could just scratch out names with a pen as I finished notes. Here is what happened next:

Printer: The printer is out of order. (Prints)

Self: Huh?

Printer: Please replace toner cartridge. (Spews toner out front)

Self: (Covered in toner) But. . .

Printer: Please load paper in tray 2. Please load paper in tray 1. (Starts pushing many sheets of paper out very quickly, each with one character on a random location of page, so cannot be used again)

Self: You never print this fast when I want you to.

Printer: Memory failure. (Lights flashing)

Self: I don't understand. I didn't even touch you!

Printer clunks and wheezes pitifully, then turns off. Self leaves room and decides it is better to scroll through list on phone than print it.

As I left the room, I stepped in cat barf and noticed that, down the hall, the cat (white) was performing her second catly function of rolling all over B's suit jacket (black). I yelled at her, and she leapt into the closet, using her claws to rip little holes in the suit jacket. Then she went to the far back of the closet and started puking there. I would like to say I was heroic and got her out, cleaned all the puke, and took B's jacket to be mended. Instead I just shut the damn door. What do you want, people? Mother Theresa? 

I decided to go out on the balcony to write my thank you notes, where the cat wasn't allowed. Of course, she was shut in the closet, but I felt I needed a double barrier. The minute I stepped outside this dude who rides a Harley with no muffler started doing laps around the little neighborhood square I live on. I do not know why a Hell's Angel would want to live in a suburban neighborhood full of perfect, pansy-assed landscaping and straight-laced, suv-driving dorks, but he lives here. Maybe he moved in because he hates us and took out his muffler to piss us off. I think it is an illegal level of noise, but I don't call the police because I don't want to have my fingers chopped off. Anyway, his laps around the little square were deafening, and as usual he didn't seem to be going anywhere, but instead was just doing laps, like exercise or something. 

I thought I would put on some music to drown out the motorcycle. This only led to more headache because I couldn't get my speaker to pair with my phone. It loves to pair--pairs indiscriminately. But it doesn't like to be faithful. It had unpaired with my phone to pair with B's laptop, Kris' phone, the downstairs neighbor's iPad. Anything but my phone! Please note--it had been a week since Kris had his phone anywhere near my speaker, and yet it was still pining away for his dumb phone. Why couldn't it remember my phone like that? Because my speaker is a slut, and not of the ethical variety.

I couldn't deal and went back inside, where I spied six more piles of cat barf, considered a brief drug excursion, and realized I hadn't enough time. By then, B was walking in the door with Ari, asking how the thank you notes were coming. I think I may have burst into tears or something because the next thing I know, Ari and I were cuddling in front of the tv eating chips, and B had fixed the printer, appropriately paired my speaker, cleaned up all the barf, gotten the dude on the Harley to leave (She negotiates for a living.), and was writing thank you notes. She finished in one hour and didn't even dare to say "what was so hard about this?" Because she just got lucky, and she knows it.