Back-Up

Yesterday my head was a giant cotton ball and my thinking process was not very clear, as you may well imagine. It was one of those days when you know your body is not going to obey you, or if it does at all, it will be a very slow process.

I remember staring at the Oldest's lesson book for math and trying my hardest to find the area of an irregular shaped polygon. I had the answer but I did not have the method of doing it in front of my thick, cotton head. I had to give the Oldest a little break so I could figure the thing out. He was getting the wrong answer and then I was for some odd reason. No, it wasn't an odd reason. I had cotton in my head.

Finally I remembered how to find the area of a triangle (which was my problem) and then combined it with the area of the other shape of the polygon. It's been years since I did algebra and geometry and the rules fly out of my head or get lost in the cotton dwelling there.

I laughed inside when I thought of how I am teaching my son all this math stuff and sometimes I have issues with it! The boy is exceedingly patient with me though and still considers me the best teacher (which I am not, but I will take that)

Eraser Eater is back to writing songs again and making "CDs". When he is not schooling or eating or sleeping, he is writing songs. Dear Sir read off a few this morning that were right up his alley: "Back-up Batteries" and "There is Clutter Everywhere".

Back-up batteries? Dear Sir always emphasizes how important it is (solely to me) to have a "back-up". He has said that since his youthful days with me in our marriage. I remember when he grocery shopped for us when we were first married and thought it was the pits when the last of the toothpaste was used. I think he came up to me with a tube in his hand saying, "always have a back-up." I try now to do that. I fail in some areas because of the cotton in my head.

There is Clutter Everywhere is so very apropos to my Dear Sir. He can't walk into a place without picking up or dusting crumbs off a table carefully with his hand. He even has me doing it and I was sort of good at it before. He is so clean. If there is clutter he clutches his head and almost has a meltdown. I guess that is my reaction to coins and cheese. Unmentionables.

But let me get this straight. There is never coins and cheese. There is just coins. And then there is cheese with fingerprints on it. And then when someone has heard these two phobias they naturally combine them into one gigantic pool of horrendousness and I am left writhing in a vat of sickness. Because it is so odd it becomes quite silly and funny to them.

You could probably show Dear Sir pictures of clutter and he would feel a bit pale and green. You know what? I am getting myself in trouble here. Some of you have rotten minds and would torture me with needless information. I can not bare all to you, reader! You are my enemy. What is probably perfectly fine to you is not well with me and you know it. There. I looked up "coins and cheese" on google. Nothing too disturbing there. ---Except there was a page about "testing the dirtiness of coins" and you somehow use cheese bacteria to do this? Save me from this madness!!!!

How did I get to this subject again? Oh yes, there is clutter everywhere.

That is a profound statement. There is clutter everywhere. Chew on that for awhile.