Skip to the Loo, my darling

The loo, lav, john, WC, the potty, john, powder room.  Sadly, this form of multi-tasking is more common than you think.

Multi-tasking in the loo!

Multi-tasking in the loo!

I present to you, the transcript of an actual e-mail exchange between me and my friends.

Me: “This is out of a sitcom!  I dropped my cellphone in water…a clean toilet to be exact…running between work meetings and whoops…just slipped out in the bowl…

Because I am a technological disaster, I did not back up my contacts or cellphone numbers to the cloud or to my computers…and I am  s**t out of luck.

Soooo…if you wouldn’t mind sending my your cellphone numbers…as you are important folks to me…I will re-enter them into my recently upgraded i-phone…that’ll teach me!  I am trying to see this as an opportunity for some re-organization…or at least for a good old giggle.”

Some of the responses back:

** Ouch!!!

** Yikes! When my phone got wet months ago, it actually dried up and started working again! At that point I already had a new phone though.

** Now I don’t feel like such an idiot – I did the EXACT same thing a couple of years ago, which I considered to be my punishment for multi-tasking, such as it were…I also subjected a phone to a watery death when I failed to properly close a bottle of San Pellegrino that I was carrying in the my bag. I lost the phone and drowned my make-up bag as well.

** I love to hear that someone is stupider than me.

** Hi, you should back things up on iCloud!

** Oops!

** If this is a scam it’s a good one.

** I’m glad I’m not the only one these sorts of things happen too!

** Just checking this is not spam–if it is not, it is hilarious!

Multi-tasking is not all that it is cracked up to be.

Photo credit: Shutterstock

Extreme Multi-tasking

Extreme multi-tasker

Extreme multi-tasker

I once looked up the meaning of multi-tasking.

It was originally a term meaning “concurrent processing”  as in a computer operating system. Then the definition morphed in 1990’s to include humans doing two things at once. Or three or four.

No doubt it gained rapid popularity in direct proportion to the work-life balance movement.

I’ve gotten pretty good at stacking up tasks, but it does lead to some unique situations.

Here’s some recent “concurrent processing” my human operating system has taken on.

Hair coloring & bicep curls:  While waiting the twenty minutes for Wella semi-permanent glop in a shower cap to seep in to cover the grays, (What? You have grays?)  I took ten pound weights into the bathroom for biceps curls. I’m glad I didn’t drop them because it would have been hard to explain to my husband the cracked floor tiles.

Commuting and whitening my teeth:  I got the clear film teeth-whitening strips that went on top and bottom teeth for 20 minutes — the exact length of time for me to drive to my office.  A no-brainer. Sadly, I drink too much coffee for this to last long.

Talking to the former CEO of a major cola company with SpongeBob SquarePants: I had to take the call from home because my child was sick. Too bad that little yellow sea sponge didn’t drink this guy’s cola.

Training the dog while talking on the phone with a friend:  “Yes, yes, yes!”  I said, with much gusto as puppy peed in the right spot. Had to explain to my caller, that, no I was not Meg Ryan in “When Harry met Sally.”

What are some of the craziest multi-tasking things you’ve done?

(, accessed on April 6, 2012)

Stall of Safety

My friend G. recently sent me this House of Cards moment.

Here’s a text she sent in desperation to her friend from an ice rink bathroom stall.

Names changed to protect the innocent and not so-innocent.

G: Omg. I just completely lost my mind at my kid. Feel like a horrible mother.

Friend: Awwww. What happened?

G : A litany of things that had nothing to do with him. Hockey game. Trying to get out of house. A*** not leaving her key so we could move cars.  So hubby tries to pull the truck out between parked cars and scraped ours and the neighbor’s. Get to rink finally after 15 mins of that shit. Go to open back of truck to get several 100 pounds of hockey equipment and back handle pops off in my hand. My poor little boy in front of me and says “I am squished”. I scream like an abusive maniac “get out of my way.” Did I mention hubby had stopped the car in the middle of the parking lot, so now there are cars backed up in both directions giving us the subliminal finger. Plus he left his door open because it locks automatically and so no one can get around us. And under stress I have zero ability to manage myself well.

I write this from the bathroom stall where I am hiding.

Sent from my iPhone

Pantyhose, Puppy and Poop Patrol

Two weeks ago we brought home a new addition to our family.

The most adorable, eight-week old Labrador puppy. Chocolate. Grey eyes. Beautiful.

He has a wonderful temperament, gentle and playful. Picture perfect. We are in love.

He poops and pees.

A lot.

He likes to chew on electrical wires, sweatshirt strings, shoelaces, rug fringes, chair legs, pebbles, cookbooks and cellphone chargers.

Anything but the eight chew toys within his grasp.

His little bladder can only hold for 5 hours at a stretch. I am a new mama again, up once or twice a night.

The ratio of my House of Cards days to non-House of Cards days has increased.

This includes the following:

  • Tripping over the baby-gate from garage onto hands and knees, dropping three bags of just purchased holiday gifts, including a glass platter and dessert dishes from William Sonoma.
  • Wrestling with the puppy over my only remaining pair of pantyhose. Had to wear slacks that day to work, that needed serious dry-cleaning.
  • Showering, in desperation, with pooch in the bathroom. Years ago, it worked with a sleeping infant in a car seat. Doesn’t work with a hyper puppy licking/biting the water off your legs, before you’ve toweled off.
  • Wearing high heels with hole-y pajamas at 3:00 am in the backyard waiting for the pup to poop. Couldn’t find my boots or slippers. New fashion statement.
  • Stepping in, and then dragging into the house, poop hidden under fallen maple leaves, during a bleary-eyed middle of night potty break. Wearing bedroom slippers.That will teach me.
  • Cursing trying to locate items such as hairbrushes, unpaid bills, TV remotes, shoes. Nothing is where it is supposed be, having been hastily removed out of canine range.Things are piled on mantelpieces, shoved in the back of closets and junk drawers.
  • Redirecting the small critter out of the dishwasher as I am trying to unload it, chipping a soup bowl.

The things we do for love.

Sports Socks Multiplicity

I am drowning in socks and it creates havoc in our house. My son loves baseball and soccer.  All his team sports socks look the same: black, knee-length with turnover cuff, and slightly spandex-y.

There are baseball socks: black. Town travel team soccer game socks: black.  Town travel practice socks: black. Club soccer practice socks: black. (Luckily, Club soccer game socks are blue or white. There is a god.)

None of the black socks are the actually the same. They have slight variations rendering them non-interchangeable.  Some have cuffs with white horizontal stripes, some have black ribbing, some have a dark grey heel and toe and some have a teeny logo mid-calf. To make matters worse the sock mates do not cohabitate: two of the same pair are rarely together.

I was unprepared for these nuances.  He won’t wear the practice socks when he needs game socks, let alone baseball socks when he needs soccer socks.  He can tell the difference.

Without fail, ten minutes before we have to leave for a game or practice, we are unable to locate the right black sock (or the left one). I’ve torn apart dresser drawers, flipped over mattresses and sofa cushions, hunted under beds in search of these little critters.  Like the sorcerer’s apprentice in the Disney movie Fantasia, these black socks multiply and divide all over the house.

However, in the course of looking for an image for this blog post, I found the solution!

Clothespins. I’m rigging up this system in his closet!

I love when I find the answer to a problem to one part of my life, in an unexpected other part of my life.