1. Maybe a year ago, I walked in on my husband vacuuming our stone kitchen floor. This wasn’t as shocking as, say, catching him vacuuming the floor wearing nothing but my cherry patterned kitchen apron, butt cheeks waggling. But somehow, in my puritanical Brooms R 4 Sweeps! mindset, it did land somewhere on the same scale.

He’d broken some glass and felt vacuuming to be the more efficient collection method, and I

(writing this down, I’m kind of astounded at how prissy I evidently am about non-traditional cleaning methods.  I mean, somehow this became a discussion, during which I must’ve demanded my husband defend his vacuum related decision process)

chalked it up to husband oddity.  Because what kind of decent person would grab the wrong instrument for the job? *SMH* Like cleaning the toilet with the cobweb catcher.

Many months later, while vacuuming our boring old living room carpet, I was suddenly overcome with the wild urge to drive that electric sucking machine through two rooms and vacuum the kitchen, complete with all the uncomfortable CLACK-CLACK sounds as plastic wheels rolled over big assed tiles.

And OMIGOD, I will never go back. The resulting clean feels noticeably different under my feet! The little sensor going green gives me high levels of satisfaction! And the fact that this is interesting enough to me that I feel compelled to tell you makes me feel very much like one of those extremely uptight bitches who think they’re super laid back and interesting when they manage even the most minor behavioral deviations.

2. Two days ago, my kid told me she was going to an after-school meeting the next day and needed me to make a mac-n-cheese dish for her bring.

“OK, you need to remember to ask me about these things like a week in advance, and not just spring requests the day before,” I said in my best put-upon mother tone.

My kid said, “I did tell you a week ago.”

After a moment of furrowed brow reflection, I realized she totally did tell me about it a week ago. Not only did I forget, but I even forgot that I’d forgotten. And here, I will steadfastly refuse to go into all the dementia-related fear buttons that pushes! Onward!

Anyway, I made her mac-n-cheese, and when we picked her up after the event, I asked how it went over.

“They kind of decided yours was the best out of all of them,” she said from the back seat in what was probably an accidental (but dead.on.) April Ludgate impression.

Turns out everyone brought macaroni and cheese, on purpose, to compete as a party activity. AND I WON. MUTHERFUCKA! *pumps fists*

So this part of the embarrassing confession is how, instead of counting sheep to get to sleep last night, I told myself over and over how I won the macaroni competition. Which has lead me to wonder this morning if

A) I should be concerned at my extreme levels of emotional neediness

or

B) maybe my life is just lacking in the proper dose of positive reinforcement.

There was a 3rd, but damn if I can remember now. Whheeeeeeeee!