A little Ironic and Dramatic

Awhile back, we lost our camera. A pretty new camera. We took it outside to take pictures of our Easter extravaganza and never saw it again.

I kept meaning to take a good look around. I think Sean actually did.

Anyhoo, The G's preschool and dance program were coming up and Sean informed me that there was a groovy camera out there that took pictures and HD video. Wowzers. We ordered it, because we have kids and Sean loves to take every one's picture. (If Sean were to be a stay at home mom, his blog would be littered with pictures and major coupon savings. I've no doubt he would school everyone at coupons. But alas, I stay home and I don't care about coupons. I feel like they dictate to me what I should do with my shopping time. Also, they make me break out in a sweat while in the cereal aisle. Does this work with that? Do I even want this? )

So, today, the fruit guy comes to the door. Please keep in mind that I ALWAYS buy fruit from the fruit guy. It makes me feel like I live in a different place and time. One where the fruit guy cares about me and the food I feed my family, plus the oranges are divine. So, I answer the door despite holding wet, rinsed out clothes from Jared's last diaper episode (he has way too many of those), and graciously accept my giant bag of oranges.

Now, I just need to find the checkbook.

I search as I hold those balled up nasty clothes. I check my purse. Nothing. I ask him to come back in ten minutes.

I run the clothes to washer and start a load, and begin my search. Nothing, nothing and more nothing. I call my husband in a horrible panic and instead of hello, just yell/ask him if he knows where the checkbook is, and then, of all things, I start to cry, because my hands smell like poop and I can't find the checkbook, and I'm ashamed I didn't start our conversation with a proper greeting.

I tuck the phone between my head and shoulder and race upstairs thinking it might be in Sean's bag he uses for church. At this point, I'm babbling about how we never can find anything and need a better system. When, da da dun. I pull out the camera. Huh. That was obvious.

"I just found the camera, but I can't find the checkbook." I say in a surprised/annoyed voice right as my face accidentally hangs up the phone. My face is always hanging up on people. I think it has something to do with how my face is shaped-I've got plenty of face.

A knock at the door. I apologize and feel stupid because I don't have a checkbook and am afraid this will ruin my relationship with the fruit guy. He tells me its okay and that he can get his stuff to take my credit card information. Huh. A little late to be telling me this.

I thank him and go find my purse to get my card, when, ta da, there's the checkbook staring at me with a gleeful smile.

Now, I thinks its all a little bit funny.

Sorry about that phone call sweety. Things are under control. Really. really. It was my face.