All Tangled

No, I did not do anything yarny this week. But as this is a Monday post, here's a pic of some of my stash:

Yup, it's a tangle. And somehow I'm going to have to move it.

A week ago, I found out that I have to be out of my current home in a month. So, last week I was a bit focused on that. 

I've got a lot of stuff, so I'm not looking forward to packing. But first I need to find a place. I've been looking at various situations, and that's all in motion right now. 

I have a mental list of what I need to get done. It's doable. But I really, really hate the process. I may be a bit cranky, so feel free to ignore that. I'll feel a whole lot better when I'm on the other side of all of this.

So, I've been stressed and freaked out, and that has taken a toll.

On Friday, my (soon to be ex-) roommates and I went out to dinner. I ordered something I had never tried. It was chicken and a kind of macaroni and cheese with bacon thing. I did not finish it, so I got a box to take home the leftovers...

And as I was boxing up the leftovers, I knew. I just knew.

It took a while to settle the bill. (Divvying up a check three ways takes time.) But we were done, and then on our way.

A couple miles from the restaurant, and I realized I had forgotten my leftovers on the table. I mean, I knew I was going to do that. I generally remember things pretty well, but in my current mental state, plus it was a Friday (I am an idiot Friday nights), I was bound to miss something. Like the take home container right in front of me. Sigh.

We did turn around to retrieve it. But I felt like such an idiot. 

If I seem a bit off to all of you, now you know why. I hope I'll get things settled sooner rather than later. But it's going to be a busy month.

After I finished this post, my landlady informed me that she changed her mind about moving. Suddenly, the stress of last week evaporated. But this is a temporary reprieve. I'll have to move sooner or later (probably sooner). 

Moving Away

For the most part, the kiddos don't talk. They leave their cameras off as well as their microphones, so we communicate via the chat. But a few of them to turn on their mics and talk to me.

In period four, that student is Drake. 

I really appreciate Drake. When I have them doing work, he asks questions. I'm sure some of his questions are questions the other students have. And he answers when I pose questions for the class.

On Friday he was early to class. He's usually early, but this time he needed to talk to me.

Drake explained that he had just moved and he was using the WiFi hotspot from his phone to log into the meet. He wasn't going to be able to do the work for class due to the move. (They were going to install the internet the next week, probably.) 

Trying to be helpful, I pointed out that the school has WiFi hotspots for school work that the kiddos can pick up. That's when Drake informed me that he had moved two hours away.

Well, it's not Egypt, nor is it in an undisclosed foreign country for a funeral...

Drake will transfer schools, but at the end of the school year. This distance thing means he can finish off this school year where he's at. And I heard from other teachers that this seems to be a thing lately.

I would have liked to meet Drake in person. Sigh. But I consider that a valid excuse for late work. There are some things that one can't control.

Modern Games

It was Monday. Or Tuesday. Or maybe Wednesday. Oh bother. This past week has completely run together. What day is this, anyway?

I was watching Blondie, Detritus, and the baby. I think I was watching the baby's show, or perhaps I was tracking the baby as he tried to get into anything that he wasn't supposed to have (because it would have been too easy if he only played with that he was allowed to have). Blondie and Detritus were keeping themselves busy, so it took a moment before I started listening to their game.

Blondie had her Nintendo DS. Detritus had a toy cell phone. Blondie pretended her DS was a cell phone, and she was getting a text from somebody or she was texting her mother or both. Then Detritus took off his shirt ("I'm hot"), and Blondie "snapped a picture" of him.

Blondie: "I just emailed that to all your friends. Now I'm putting it on Facebook."

Detritus: "I'm putting this on my Facebook." (I'm not sure how Blondie's appearance would have shamed her on Facebook, but Detritus phrased it as a threat.)

Blondie: "I'm deleting your pictures from Facebook and putting up this."

Blondie had "snapped" another shot of the shirtless Detritus. Before Detritus could figure out another threat, I told him that if he perhaps put his shirt back on, Blondie wouldn't have anything to threaten him with.

Threatening to put up embarrassing photos on Facebook. That's a game I didn't play as a kid.

Here We Go...Away

While we were packing, Nick Jr. was usually on in the background. I've mentioned my niece and nephew, but I haven't mentioned the other nephew, the youngest. He's 14-months-old. Yeah, so not so much with the helping of the packing.

Because that channel is aimed at the really young, I should have expected that certain segments get repeated over and over and over and... Yeah, it got bad. Not as bad as this, but annoying nonetheless. The worst offender... 

Imagine hearing that song every 15 minutes. (If you have a young child and already watch the channel, you don't have to.) Enough said.  

The Bright Side

The other day as I was helping my sister-in-law pack up her house (I don't recall which day this was), we found some unopened bubbles. These ended up on the counter as we continued to empty shelves. Then my nephew (who I'm going to call) Detritus came in and saw them.

(I should explain my choice of name. It's a literary reference. No, I don't think my nephew is a troll. But, he talks just like that character--every "th" sound comes out as a "d". And he is a five-year-old boy.)

Detritus loves bubbles. So, his mom gave them to him with the instruction that he was to play with them in the backyard. And off he went.

I'm not sure how much time passed, but it was long enough to get some packing done, when Blondie appeared in the house. She informed her mom that Detritus had spilled all of his bubbles.

My response: "Oh good. We don't have to pack them."

The Incredible Disappearing Gloves

This past weekend was an all-hands-on-deck affair at my brother's house. Their move was coming soon, and there was still a lot to pack (read: the kitchen).

Little brother (he's four years younger than me, but he's about six inches taller) spent the weekend going through the masses of stuff in the garage. Because he was doing a lot of heavy lifting and moving of boxes, he wisely was wearing work gloves. When he could find them.

The previous weekend, LB showed me a pair of mismatched gloves. He couldn't find their mates. As my sister-in-law went through some of those boxes from the garage (sorting), guess what we found?

Missing gloves have become a running joke.

On Saturday, LB was busily running around. He had a bed to disassemble. He had boxes to move. He was wearing the gloves. And then...

I attempted to help look for the missing gloves, but as I hadn't seen him put them down, I couldn't do much but offer suggestions ("Are they in the car?"). I thought he found them, but then on Sunday a new pair were purchased to replace the missing ones, so apparently not.

We finished emptying most of the cabinets in the kitchen, and so it was time to start on the drawers. I pulled out stuff while my mother put that stuff in boxes. I got to the drawer which contained aluminum foil, plastic wrap, and storage bags. In the midst of this I found the gloves.

I took the gloves outside. I held them up for LB. His reaction was priceless.

Finding Toys

Moving sucks.

No, I'm not going anywhere, but my brother and his family are. I have the honor and privilege of helping them pack up their house. (My brother and sister-in-law both read the blog.)

The first order of business was to sort through the kids' toys. We were to pare down their massive collection to a more manageable amount. I set us up with a trash bag for trash, a trash bag for giveaways, and boxes for those toys that were to be packed.

Some things in the room were already sorted. There was a Lite-Brite cube over near the closet. I asked my niece (who I'm going to call) Blondie about it. She said it was to be given away. I asked her where the rest of it was, as all that was sitting there was the cube--no instructions, no pegs, nothing. Blondie had no idea.

It took us three days to sort the toys (well, it might have been four...it's all starting to run together). The second day in that room, I concentrated on the various piles of clutter around the edges. There were a lot of pencils and pens. There was also a lot of junk and trash. I had Blondie go through it all (she's 10, so she can handle it). Most of it went in the trash. But somewhere in those piles we found the instruction packet for the Lite-Brite.

Score! I added that to the giveaways. But we were still missing the pegs.

The last day in the room, we tackled the closet. The less said about the Christmas candy we found in there, the better.

On the tippy-top shelf in the closet were several shoe boxes. I pulled them all down and found they were all empty. Easy trash. Then I noticed a plastic bag up there. It wasn't until I pulled it down did I figure out what it was. The pegs! The Lite-Brite was now complete.

I went to put the pegs in the giveaway trash bag, but Blondie stopped me. Now she wanted to keep it.

Naturally.

As she still had room in her allotted toy box, I pulled the thing out of the giveaways and put it in with her toys.

Oh, the things you find when you're packing.