My hand is not paper

I had a rough day yesterday: It was too hot; we had nowhere to go; my toddler devised a new game called Let's Steamroll the Baby that she would not stop playing, despite a few trips to her room to contemplate the benefits of not crushing her sister. DH said he'd eat the single remaining pork chop from two nights ago, so I didn't bother making any actual dinner. I grilled up a toasty cheese sandwich for the toddler, breastfed the baby, and sent them both packing to their beds.

The baby refused to go down, of course. Figures. It was just that kind of night.

By 9:45 I finally had some time to myself. The baby was still awake -- roaming the living room floor, blocked in by furniture and strategically placed toy boxes -- but as long as she didn't see me sneak out, she'd play happily with DH. I didn't go anywhere exciting. I hadn't eaten anything yet and didn't want to cook, so with only $4 to my name (well, $11 if you want to include the checking account balance; thank goodness today is pay day!) Taco Bell sounded like my best bet.

Did you know they stopped serving the Club Chalupa? It must have been a temporary promotional thing. In any case I felt very irritated, after a long and annoying day, not to get the one thing Taco Bell sells that sounded decent at a quarter to 10 on a Thursday night.

The weather mirrored my mood: Random lightning strikes all around, illuminating the dark open horizon of the dusty plains, with no actual rain. Nothing lilting or lovely played on the radio. I switched it on to hear hardcore Boston street punks the Unseen screeching (literally -- I wonder if or how they still have vocal chords) a cover of Michael Jackson's "Beat It" on the college station.

In lieu of the Club Chalupa, I got their newest promotional food item -- some origami tortilla concoction called the Crunchwrap Supreme. Sadly, it tasted pretty much the way you'd expect Taco Bell fare to taste. On the upside, I also ordered a large Dr. Pepper and that seemed to lighten my mood all around. ;-)

When I got home and pulled into the garage, I grabbed a pen from my purse and scribbled "Unseen / Beat It" on my palm so I'd remember to look the band up today. (Not because I want to own any of their music, but because they'd been so apropos in my weird irritated mood and I wanted to write about the moment with specificity later on.) I completely forgot about it until my toddler noticed my hand this morning at the grocery store, and the almost completely faded ink.

"Why you do this?" she scowled in a bad impersonation of me. "You hand is not paper! That's a bad choice, Mommy!"

LOL.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I won't do it again, sweet pea. (Or if I do, I'll wash it off more thoroughly before you see it.)


~RCH~