Disordered

When I came home from work today, I parked in front since I was in a hurry to grab a few things and then head out to get the kids for Nico's school holiday program. I noticed that the neighbors had their front yard tree cut down today, but didn't think much of it. They've been complaining for years that it was dying and becoming a risk, so it makes sense to get rid of it before the winter. Once inside, I noticed a suspicious smell and ended up tracing it to a pile of dog poop in the playroom floor. I realized that Indy probably did it in a fit of anxiety over the tree trimming noise. MB got home right after me, cleaned it up, and we took off to get the kids and go to the program. I felt kind of relieved that he did it in the playroom, on the durable and not all that pretty tile, rather than on the wood floor, or the carpet, or the bed. A lucky escape!

Hours later, after the kids were in bed and I was cleaning up for the evening, I discovered he also had absolutely shredded the little red satchel that I've been using to carry my Navigators stuff, which I had left on the couch last night. I paid five bucks for it at a consignment shop and needed to sew a new strap on it so I could wear it cross-body and it wasn't anything super special, but I was fond of it and I'm irritated that he wrecked it. I started bright-siding again in an attempt to get over my irritation. At least it was just my thrift store bag he tore up, and nothing more precious or important. As I was cleaning up all the dismembered pieces, I discovered that he did damage two of our couch pillows, one badly enough that we will probably end up throwing it out. I guess I should keep on with my plan of making some lemonade so I stop feeling like shaking him until his goddamn chompy teeth rattle. After all, he can't help that he's a bit of a nervous wreck. The neighbors couldn't have known that they should've warned us about the tree trimming. To be honest, even if they had I don't know that I would've realized the risk. In the spirit of being forgiving, I'm going to make myself come up with ten things I'm glad he didn't destroy instead, while I rage-eat some Ben & Jerry's.

1. The couch itself.

2. Our mattress or quilt.

3. The kids' wooden train tracks, which are laid out in a complicated route in the living room floor.

4. The stack of just-delivered Amazon boxes full of Christmas gifts in the foyer.

5. A library book or $40 cash that was in the satchel.

6. Either of the kids' loveys. Elliott left his beloved kangaroo on the dining room floor yesterday morning, and I spotted it when I grabbed my purse and put it up on the mantel just in case.

7. My laptop cord.

8. My favorite flip flops, or any other shoes. 9. Any of the kids' toys (though I can think of a few things I'd trade for a cute satchel and a nice pillow, given the choice).

10. The Christmas tree.

Reading:  The Dream Thieves by Maggie Stiefvater (audiobook)

Playing:  a Los Straitjackets Christmas playlist on youtube that also includes this pretty piece: