Home again, home again, jiggety jig

OK, so yesterday we flew from New Hampshire to Chicago. The flight was fairly uneventful, except for the part where the guy sitting next to me practically exploded giving vent to the world's biggest sneeze--the kind where you can just picture the tiny droplets spreading rapidly through the entire plane--in slow motion--starting with where I was sitting. 

To make matters worse,  the flight attendants had just served our beverages. And I was really, really thirsty. 

So I had to make a decision: skip the water, or drink it and maybe die, like Myrna Loy in The Rains Came. This was not an easy decision to make. The Rains Came is kind of a silly melodrama about a woman redeeming her misspent youth by helping out in a hospital during a cholera epidemic in India. Eventually she forgets about the general germiness of life in India during a cholera epidemic, lifts a glass of water to her lips, and drinks. I'm all "MYRNA! Don't drink that!" but she does anyway. And you just know she's going to die.

Admittedly, I don't think raising my children to say "please" and "thank you" exactly qualifies as a nursing-the-cholera-patients level of self-sacrifice. But the glass of water with the sneeze juice in it seemed just as deadly as Myrna's.

At this point it's probably a good idea for me to mention that I spent my Christmas vacation watching marathon amounts of television episodes on DVD. And that in the space of three days, I watched the entire first season of House, M.D. And that is why I knew for sure that that sneeze COULD HAVE BEEN DEADLY.

And yet I drank the water anyway. I know, ew. But I really was thirsty. And I'm still alive!

Of course, when I walked into my house with its Christmas decorations all over the place, suitcases needing to be unpacked, laundry to do, plants needing watering, the turtle needing fresh water ... by the way, have you noticed that "thirsty" is today's secret word?

I leave you with two thoughts: this house is going to kill me. And I think I'm going to go get a drink.

What I did on My Summer Vacation

Cinderella before the ball
Originally uploaded by PoppyBuxom

1. Did lots of laundry.

2. Became increasingly frustrated by the old dryer, which came with the house, and must be a teenager, or maybe even 22 or 23 years old, because it decided that it was only going to work when it wanted to.

3. Went to Sears. Bought new washer and dryer.

4. Waited for them to be delivered.

5. And waited.

6. Cleaned out laundry area the morning of the delivery.


This included washing dust and lint off the accumulated detergent bottles. Because I am the Anal-Rententive Housewife.

7. Sat, dreaming my little dreamy dreams, waiting for the delivery guys.

8. And sat. Hummed "Someday My Prince Will Come" from Snow White.

9. Greeted the delivery guys with sobs of joy and a can of WD-40--the traditional welcoming gesture of my tribe.

10. Licked machines all over, but allowed husband to peel off protective plastic stuff.

11. Tenderly placed a load of white sheets into the virginally-clean tub. And then put them into the handsome new dryer, where they were whirled into its hot, strong embrace.

12. Blogged about it.

It's good enough for astronauts. But not good enough for me.

Say I decide that too much cork is bad for me, (see below) and I'm going to stop drinking the wine with the little life rafts bobbing around in it. What do I chose to drink? On a hot summer day? A nice refreshing Diet Coke.

But now, scientists have conspired to make that sound like a bad idea, too.

So ... what's left? Soy milk? Bubble Tea? Tang?