1. No matter where you pee, you brace for the spray of the automatically flushing toilet. When it doesn’t come and you realize you must flush manually, you actually have a momentary lapse on how.
2. You have problems reclining on the couch because your body is used to sitting at a 90-degree angle.
3. You change channels on your TV remote then try to hit the “save” button.
4. You wear a skirt, blouse and heels…for a dump run.
5. When your coworker walks by and catches you bouncing in your chair while doing butt crunches, she gives you a look and you keep right on scrunchin’. You might even find yourself thinking, “Hah! My butt could kick your butt’s butt.” If you do find yourself thinking that, you hope you didn’t say it aloud.
6. You answer your home phone, “Hi, this is Mrs. Mullet. How can I help you?”
7. You can’t drive by billboards without playing “name that font” and guessing whether or not the graphic is a stock photo. Even if you’re right, your husband really doesn’t care if it’s GillSans or Futura Condensed. He’d rather you played the game “When are we going to get busy.”
8. When you email the grocery list to your husband, you write, “Please reply so I know you’ve received this communication.”
9. You hear Raffi’s song “Mama’s takin’ us to the zoo tomorrow” and change the words to “Mama’s not takin’ us to the zoo tomorrow 'cause she works all day” and you laugh manically and sing “all daaay-hay hay…she works all daaay-hay hay” and think about making your own damn kids’ album that’s a more accurate portrayal of the lives of working mothers. Fricken Raffi bastard.
10. Space aliens leave signs on your lawn that read, “We’ve been trying to make contact for three months. Where the fuck have you been?”
And now, on a cheerier note, Junior reached into his Indiana Jones hat and pulled out the name of the sandbox winner (I would have taken an evidentiary picture but after the chopalicious-meets-fat-cat montage I needed a break).
Dun dun dun…the winner is...Anonymous.
Yep. Anonymous. Whoever you are, I hope you enjoy your new toy in the privacy of your undisclosed town in your mysterious backyard with your unnamed children.
(If I could post this anonymously, I'd say that I secretly hoped the winner would have been a fellow blogger. But I, um, can't say that.)
About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.