I have to get my kids but have some thoughts percolating after a big weekend that started with tragedy Friday morning.  Can lightning strike twice in the same spot?  Apparently it can at the Jansma Household.  Nature called Friday morning and in an attempt to make Shirley’s life as stress free as possible I headed to the kids bathroom to drop a deuce.  Shirley had warned me that their toilet had been acting up so I was ready to close the water valve at the first sign of any plug-age, sure enough, the water was heading the wrong way so I went down to shut the water source off behind the toilet but the water seemed to flow even faster.  Some one who plans ahead would have had the plunger at their side, but we all know I do very little planning ahead so I was forced to sprint to our bathroom and grab the industrial strength plunger to eradicate the clog.  By the time I got back it was the fecal version of  Niagara Falls in my bathroom and sticking the plunger in the toilet only exacerbated the problem.  The turd filled water was making a run for the hallway carpet so I threw a bunch of towels down as a blockade, had it made it to the carpet we would have been putting the house up for sale that day.   (I asked my brother in law who has a real estate background if that is something that would have had to go in the disclosure statement and he said no).  After what seemed like minutes but was probably ten to fifteen seconds, the clog went down and I was left to clean up the natural disaster that had sprung upon the bathroom floor.  Unlike the previous toilet clog, it was my shit I was cleaning up, but it was still shit none the less.

(This was the least disgusting picture I could find, and doesn’t accurately reflect what I went through, I had chicken wings the night before)

After cleaning up the mess I had to get my kids ready for school, I told them to go watch tv while I was mopping up toilet water and they were still in their pajamas when I went down stairs.  So, I had to fish clothes for them out of the laundry room (they were clean just not folded, and lying on the laundry room floor in the dryer and in front of the dryer a sign that it was clean, had it been in front of the washing machine there would only be a 50/50 chance it was clean) and then I had to make them lunches and get them out the door.  When I realized that the only ingredient suitable, if you want to call it that, for a sandwich we had in the house was pepperoni, I realized I was at a fork in the road.  I could continue living life as if I was still in college and financially and emotionally incapable of getting my shit together, or I could make some changes.  It is actually a blessing that schools hate peanuts and I was unable to go with the traditional PBnJ as a lunch option, (we always have peanut butter) because if I had been able to do that I don’t think I would have come to this revelation.  “Hey, Parker, do you want cheese on your pepperoni sandwich?”
“No, dad, just pepperoni.”

The problem with getting my shit together, is I can only get my shit together, I can’t make anyone else get their shit together.  An additional problem is where do you start getting your shit together when none of your shit is together?  I was going to take the kids to the Y after daycare but called an audible and made them dinner and then let them watch tv while I  attempted to begin to get my shit together.  I went through Aiden’s drawers and pulled out all the clothes he doesn’t wear and organized the remaining clothes, which were in piles in his drawer, into folded organized rows.  I then went downstairs and threw out all the left overs and other things we were never going to eat that are in the fridge, not sure why we even bother keeping left overs, they just sit in our fridge until I throw them a way, typically in a state that leaves you wondering what it actually was originally.  The same thing was done to Parker’s clothing as well and I took all of the pots and pans, storage containers, and other odds and ends out of the cupboard so that Shirley could dispose of them as she saw fit.  I had organized the pantry a week before, as well as thrown out all the chips and other snack food in the cupboard above the fridge that  we were never going to eat.  Pita chips are my primary enemy when it comes to doing this, for some reason Shirley feels a need to have four bags of opened pita chips in our house at all times just in case she gets a serious hankering for humus.

Everything is fairly organized at this point, other than my sock drawer which is a job I will tackle next week.  I have at least 12 to 16 socks that don’t have a partner in that drawer and I think it’s time to say goodbye to them.  Will things stay organized? No, not a chance, I am fighting an up hill battle against Shirley and my kids.  I knew this going in to my organizational efforts.  The reason I did it is for my sanity.   When it all goes to shit again, likely in 48 to 72 hours, I can say to myself “I tried” and then I can say “fuck it!”

On a more exciting note than trying to get your shit together, I went to the Y to run on the indoor track yesterday and there was a women who insisted on running in the fast lane even though she may have had polio as a child.  There is a sign telling people to stay to the right and let faster moving traffic use the left lanes.  Just because you are running in the fast lane doesn’t mean you are fast, just like the idiots who drive in the left lane of the highway at speeds not exceeding 65mph.  What did I want to do to this women? I wanted to throw a body block in to her that would have sent her sprawling into the wall, but all I could do is scowl the 18 times I ran by her, and she probably just thought I was trying real hard.  Not to be outdone by the lady with polio, there was an entire family carrying weights around the track, had Zombies been trying to eat them these poor bastards would have made it three feet tops.  Needless to say, it was clogging the track up even worse than the deuce I dropped on Friday clogged my toilet.  Way to go, a family that exercises together bugs the shit out of everyone!

Prior to getting ready to run I thought to myself, can I use the family locker room?  I have a family, they aren’t here, but does that allow me to utilize the family locker rooms?  MVP locker rooms are terrible, but the Y takes it to a whole new level.  The lockers are smaller, the floor is tile (MVP has carpet) and there’s no tv to watch naked on pleather furniture.  What are the parameters for a family locker room, and what are the parameters for a handicap stall in a public bathroom?  I always hit the handicap stall when it is available, you can really sprawl out in there and a lot of times the toilet is higher, giving you the feeling of pooping on a throne.  I don’t think I have ever had a handicap person waiting for me when I exit the stall after doing my business.  However, it would be quite awkward if that did happen.  Would they have a right to be mad?  Also, I have another question, is it littering if you throw an apple core or banana peel out the window of your car?  I feel like that doesn’t count because it occurs naturally and will just biodegrade or be eaten by a homeless person.

On my way out of the Y  I ended up in traffic behind a familiar car.  My sister in law drives a Subaru Outback wagon, not because she is a lesbian, but because they have a five star rating in every single safety category.  So, they are extremely safe, and good in the snow.  However, just to make this all wheel drive even safer (she also always drives 10 mph under the speed limit) it has snow tires on it with no hubcaps, it’s a great look, but I guess if you drive an outback wagon you don’t give a shit about looks.  My point isn’t to speak out about my sister in laws obsession with safety, because that is primarily the result of her husband (their the vegetarians) but to ask another question that came to mind.  My sister in law was driving which is normal if it was just her, or just her and her four year old daughter, but her husband was riding shotgun.  Now, I like to think of myself as fairly progressive, my wife is capable of a lot of things and can fix things and put things together way better than I can.  However, I drive when we are together 99% of the time.  The only time I don’t drive is if I am drunk or I want to text and I don’t want her yelling at me about it.  We went to a Pistons game Saturday night and I drove both ways, and it was just assumed that’s how it was going to be, plus it made it a lot easier to fake she had a headache on the way home.  (the kids were gone for an overnight I should have seen that one coming).   Am I old fashioned?  Or was it right of me to view my sister in law driving her husband around (which I think happens all the time) as an oddity akin to a Dutch person picking up the check at a dinner with friends?