"Money can be exchanged for goods and services."
Abbie and I had a/an (insert adjective here) day yesterday. You can insert any of a number of adjectives in there to describe our day: Exciting, exhausting, and expensive all work, and those are just the “ex-“ words.
The morning was pretty low-key; I just cleaned the fish tanks. This exciting process is similar to hosting a college party, except that instead of bathtubs full of ice and drinks, I have multiple 5-gallon buckets filled to various levels of water. Also, instead chasing many people around to keep the dog safe and make sure no one throws up on the couch, I have to chase a toddler around to keep her entertained, and to keep the dog safe and make sure she doesn’t throw up on the couch. Otherwise, both involve a lot of shouting, and in the end I can’t wait to go to sleep.
The real excitement began in the afternoon. Abbie woke up from her morning nap about 30 minutes early, which was just as well since we had a lot to do. My first task was to pick up my car from the transmission shop. This was the expensive part. How expensive? Let’s just say a little better than half the cost of a fully rebuilt transmission. The shop is less than a mile from our house, which is easily within walking distance for me, but to bring Abbie I’d need to carry her and her car seat since we only have one. So I left her with our wonderful neighbors while I walked to the car. Last time I did this, she (Abbie) cried the whole time. This time I stayed with her a couple of minutes to help make her comfortable with her new surroundings. I thought this was a great idea, but she didn’t agree and started crying anyway. Our wonderful neighbor told me “We’ll be fine,” and implored me to leave. Upon returning, I rushed next-door expecting to hear her screaming the moment I left the car. Instead I found her sitting outside happily, or at least silently, watching the neighbor children blow bubbles. I watched for a minute, amazed at my neighbor’s power to call her anxiety, and then she started screaming.
Next we drove for an oil change in Ellie’s truck. Being a guy, I could do the job myself, but it’s too hard to find the time with Abbie. Plus, I don’t actually know what an “oil change” involves, though I do know where to add new oil. If someone opened an oil change shop where they did everything but add the oil, and let me do that before driving off, allowing me to say I changed the oil myself, I’d go there. Sadly, such a business doesn’t exist, so we went to the dealer. The dealer anticipated that young children would be stuck at the service shop while they fleeced their parents for a hot tub payment or two and stocked a corner of the waiting room with children’s books and toys. Abbie wanted nothing to do with this corner and opted for wandering around the showroom, which was a fine way to waste time except that I had to keep shooing away salespeople who “just wanted to know if there was anything we could you find.” Our wanderings did allow us a gander at the seamy underbelly of car dealerships as a couple of the salespeople were holding a profanity-laden conference call with I assume the regional sales representative concerning the fact that several customers had returned to the dealer apparently very angry about a vehicle problem that the dealer couldn’t fix. Not that I was trying to listen or anything, but the door was open and they were loud.
After the oil change, I took Abbie to the nearby mall so she could wander at their playground without me fretting over her scratching a new car. She normally loves mall playgrounds, but today she just hung on and buried her face into me like she didn’t want to go out, just like I imagine Cub pitchers do every inning after the offense puts another goose egg on the scoreboard. I think she wore herself out wandering around the showroom, though she may have just been bored by the lack of other children since a mall security guard was strictly enforcing the height limit at the time effectively leaving Abbie as the only child small enough to play. Either way, we went back home, and soon Abbie took her afternoon nap. I settled in for a little work on the computer, relieved that I wouldn’t have to pay for anything else for the rest of the day. Then I spilled water on my keyboard. You wouldn’t think a little water would be enough to ruin a keyboard and necessitate an exhausting and exciting excursion for an expensive replacement, but you’d be wrong.
The morning was pretty low-key; I just cleaned the fish tanks. This exciting process is similar to hosting a college party, except that instead of bathtubs full of ice and drinks, I have multiple 5-gallon buckets filled to various levels of water. Also, instead chasing many people around to keep the dog safe and make sure no one throws up on the couch, I have to chase a toddler around to keep her entertained, and to keep the dog safe and make sure she doesn’t throw up on the couch. Otherwise, both involve a lot of shouting, and in the end I can’t wait to go to sleep.
The real excitement began in the afternoon. Abbie woke up from her morning nap about 30 minutes early, which was just as well since we had a lot to do. My first task was to pick up my car from the transmission shop. This was the expensive part. How expensive? Let’s just say a little better than half the cost of a fully rebuilt transmission. The shop is less than a mile from our house, which is easily within walking distance for me, but to bring Abbie I’d need to carry her and her car seat since we only have one. So I left her with our wonderful neighbors while I walked to the car. Last time I did this, she (Abbie) cried the whole time. This time I stayed with her a couple of minutes to help make her comfortable with her new surroundings. I thought this was a great idea, but she didn’t agree and started crying anyway. Our wonderful neighbor told me “We’ll be fine,” and implored me to leave. Upon returning, I rushed next-door expecting to hear her screaming the moment I left the car. Instead I found her sitting outside happily, or at least silently, watching the neighbor children blow bubbles. I watched for a minute, amazed at my neighbor’s power to call her anxiety, and then she started screaming.
Next we drove for an oil change in Ellie’s truck. Being a guy, I could do the job myself, but it’s too hard to find the time with Abbie. Plus, I don’t actually know what an “oil change” involves, though I do know where to add new oil. If someone opened an oil change shop where they did everything but add the oil, and let me do that before driving off, allowing me to say I changed the oil myself, I’d go there. Sadly, such a business doesn’t exist, so we went to the dealer. The dealer anticipated that young children would be stuck at the service shop while they fleeced their parents for a hot tub payment or two and stocked a corner of the waiting room with children’s books and toys. Abbie wanted nothing to do with this corner and opted for wandering around the showroom, which was a fine way to waste time except that I had to keep shooing away salespeople who “just wanted to know if there was anything we could you find.” Our wanderings did allow us a gander at the seamy underbelly of car dealerships as a couple of the salespeople were holding a profanity-laden conference call with I assume the regional sales representative concerning the fact that several customers had returned to the dealer apparently very angry about a vehicle problem that the dealer couldn’t fix. Not that I was trying to listen or anything, but the door was open and they were loud.
After the oil change, I took Abbie to the nearby mall so she could wander at their playground without me fretting over her scratching a new car. She normally loves mall playgrounds, but today she just hung on and buried her face into me like she didn’t want to go out, just like I imagine Cub pitchers do every inning after the offense puts another goose egg on the scoreboard. I think she wore herself out wandering around the showroom, though she may have just been bored by the lack of other children since a mall security guard was strictly enforcing the height limit at the time effectively leaving Abbie as the only child small enough to play. Either way, we went back home, and soon Abbie took her afternoon nap. I settled in for a little work on the computer, relieved that I wouldn’t have to pay for anything else for the rest of the day. Then I spilled water on my keyboard. You wouldn’t think a little water would be enough to ruin a keyboard and necessitate an exhausting and exciting excursion for an expensive replacement, but you’d be wrong.
posted by Matt at
9:24 PM
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