This morning at the Tommyknocker compound...

I just made a $959.00 payment to Avon. How? I have no clue. I thought I entered $27.41. But when the order went through I looked at the screen and saw a message thanking me for my $959.00 payment. I spent fifteen minutes on the phone with a bright, cheery fellow from India who eventually provided me with an 800 number to call. The 800 number asked for my number and said it would call me back in 5-7 minutes. A recording called me back to say, "What's the matter with you, idiot? Nobody's open until 7 am. Go back to sleep you freak, and call us back then."

I have to sit here for two hours wallowing in the stink of my mistake, hoping and praying I don't accidentally set off "the bomb" or make any more similar bumbles, until the correction can be made.

What if I blow this deal? What if I become so distracted by NaNoWriMo and the Lolcats that I forget?



My poor husband is likely to need gas on his way to work. I'm picturing him standing at the counter of the 7-AM/PM-11 with muffin and Diet Coke in hand, being turned away by a cranky clerk who's been up all night due to our card being locked up. What will happen at that point? Will I get another "Luuuuuuuuucy" phone call?

In my defense, I was roused at 4:11 this morning. One word: Joe. He had turned on the hall light, and was lying dramatically across the threshold of our door sighing and tapping his foot on the wall.

Me: Go back to sleep, sweetheart. It's the middle of the freaking stinking blasted night.

Joe: *pitiful sigh*

Me: Joe, go back to your bed, sweetie, it's too early, sweetheart, go back to bed, it's night, sweetie.

Joe: *hugs his Blue Dog closer*

Me: *gets up and picks up Joe, brings him into bed*

Joe never sleeps in our bed. And this time was no exception. I tried to fall back to sleep, but somehow I knew that wouldn't be happening. I lifted my head to see if Joe had his eyes closed. He didn't. They were as wide as dual moons and were starting straight at me.

I stroked his cheek. He smiled. I tweaked his nose. He giggled and touched mine.

No hope for sleep here. The best I could hope for was a successful relocation of the two of us to the living room, qualified by not awakening my husband Dennis. Unfortunately, my bladder was screaming.

Me: Wait right here, schnicklefritz, I'll be right back.

Joe: *smiles*

I entered the powder room and eased my butt into "go" position. I snatched the recent issue of Country Living off of the cabinet and opened it to a random page and began to concentrate. Then I heard Joe breathing under the bathroom door. *exhale...inhale, exhaleinhale, exhale....inhale*

I squeaked out my #1, put the Country Living back on the cabinet, and opened the door and patted my son on the head. He'd turned on both of the bathroom overhead lights. It was then that I heard a startled yelp and witnessed my husband rocketing into a sitting position whilst yanking the covers to him asthough Joe and I were The Tommyknockers coming to get him.

I turned out the lights and grabbed for Joe's hand. The thought occurred to me that I should have grabbed Joe's hand and then turned out the lights. We made our way to the living room.

A Flintstone vitamin was tossed into a bowl, grapes were dumped on said vitamin in said bowl, milk was poured into a sippy cup, Blues Clues was flicked on, a blanket was pulled over a sweet, chilly little body, a head was patted, and a butt plunked itself in front of a computer. A well-intentioned Avon payment was made.

Y'all know how that went.

Then the urge to go #2, prompted by a quick blast of iced coffee, hit me with the force of 1,000 bad hot dogs. I sprinted to the bathroom, rounding the corner just in the nick of time without a second to waste, and gasped at the vision of my husband sitting on the john in the dark, screeching to a halt at his, "What the He...?!?"

Turning on my heels I sprinted towards the hall bathroom. It was locked! I somehow buried a scream so as not to wake the baby, and ran into the kitchen for a screwdriver. As luck would have it, all I could find was a phillips head, so I grabbed a butter knife out of the silverware drawer and ran back into the hallway towards the bathroom.

Blessedly, I made it in time. Good morning. :)