I woke up three hours earlier than usual this morning and couldn't go back to sleep.
I had great plans to accomplish many things.
1. Measure the walls in the baby's room.
My brother-in-law is going to help us put up some wainscoat and crown molding before we paint and he needed to know the measurements to buy the material. How hard could it be? Apparently hard. Do you think I could draw the walls accurately? Not to save my life. And believe me, I tried. Over and over again. I finally threw my pen and paper on the ground and gave up. And if you're wondering, I had to draw the walls so that my brother-in-law would know which measurement went with each wall.
2. Scan the letter I wanted to post to my blog.
Again...not a big deal. And to scan it, it wasn't. I scanned it in three seconds flat. But then...then...I couldn't get the dang keyboard to work. I crawled underneath the desk, checked the cords, checked the power, checked everything I could think of to check and nada. 6 inches away sits Jason's laptop. I attempted to download the scanned item to Jason's laptop, but it's an Apple and I'm clueless. Really truly clueless.
3. Email important papers to beat a deadline.
I sent the email and got a delivery failure notice. I checked the email address and I had spelled it wrong. I sent the email again and got yet another delivery failure notice. I spelled it differently the second time, but still the wrong way. Grrr...
4. Comb my hair.
All was going well until I burned my finger badly enough that I couldn't wear my ring.
When Jason finally got home from playing basketball (because he's insane and gets up at 6 am to play) I told him he could never leave me in the house alone again.
Now, about that letter I wanted to post to my blog.
I've been cleaning out the future nursery.
It's been home to all of the random items that I have held on to over the years.
Last night I found a box full of pictures and letters.
I shall show you one of each.
When I was about this age:
I had moved away and gone to college.
I was young and I was shy.
I had been on one date my entire life up to this point and I was content with never going on another one.
I was somewhere doing something...forgive my memory...it's shot...and someone approached me and gave me this note:
Sadly, my memory remembers clearly that I did not in fact go out with him.
I'm sure just the thought of such an idea put me right over the edge of sanity.
Poor Sean. I probably broke his heart.
Jason is fairly confident that had it been he who had asked me out I would have gone.
It's highly doubtful.
And with that I'm off to nag my brother about some information I need.
He loves when I nag.
Really really really loves it.