Which I am, for sure, but now that’s not what it’s going to be about.
But I should tell you that the reason I felt all superhero-ish was because I opened up the cabinet over the coffee pot and the tea fell out.
But this time I totally caught it!
Swear to Gawd.
I love that feeling!
I opened the cabinet, and you know the scene in Mr. and Mrs. Smith where Brad Pitt knocks the wine bottle off the dinner table and Angelina Jolie’s reflexes kick in and she snags the wine bottle mid-air, thus confirming her husband’s suspicion that she is, in fact, a bad-ass sexy super-assassin playing for the other team?
That was me.
With the can of tea.
Sadly, after I saved my can of tea from certain death, the Nearly Perfect Husband and I didn’t run around the house with automatic weapons like Brad and Angie did.
But I did have visions of wHacking him in the head with a galvanized watering can wrapped in a ripped-down window sheer, and getting to say the awesome line, “Who’s your daddy now?” (all while Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band’s Express Yourself played in the background).
Because that’s what bad-ass sexy super-assassins do.
But also…it’s because I wanted to wHack my nearly perfect husband in the head. And also all of my cherubs deserved a wHack in the head too.
Weapon of choice, TBD.
Because of the freakin’ medicine cabinet that’s why.
It isn’t even supposed to be a freakin’ medicine cabinet.
It’s supposed to be a beautifully organized, easy-to-find-anything-you-need-when-you-are-looking-for-it medicine shelf!
But every time I make it into an easy-to-find-anything-you-need-when-you-are-looking-for-it medicine shelf, something happens.
And that something is my family.
Hence, my need to crack skulls.
Now, I’m pretty sure that – if every single time I open the cabinet The Republic of Tea’s Decaf People’s Green Tea Daily Green Tea falls out… wouldn’t you think that every dang time anyone else opens the cabinet it happens to them too?
You and I are on the same page, people.
Because the answer is yes.
So then, wouldn’t you think that maybe the person would realize that this means that the tea needs to be better placed… more… upright, perhaps… because maybe, just maybe, a can of tea balanced precariously on top of a roll of medical tape might not be the best placement of said can of tea if you didn’t want it to… oh, I dunno …
Fall out of the cabinet every dang time you open it?
But that brings me to my next thought…
Why is the dang roll of medical tape under the can of tea?
What the heck is all this other stuff on the tea shelf?
I did not put it there!
Medical tape, Blaze’s tube of ear medicine, a tube of Aveeno Active Naturals 1% Hydrocortizone cream that I think we got when the Nearly Perfect Husband pulled a poison sumac vine from Snuffy with his bare hands (Snuffy is the fluffy evergreen bush next to the garage).
None of these things belong on the tea shelf.
Nor does John’s handy-dandy very cool milk frother.
That’s a coffee thing.
Belongs with the coffee stuff.
So I backed up and took a look at the freakin’ medicine shelf.
Actually, I looked at the whole dang cabinet.
The last time the cabinet got out of hand (maybe 2 months ago), John looked all incredulous when I confronted him and claimed there wasn’t enough room on the medicine shelf for all the medicine, and he pointed out all the dog medicine was there with all the people medicine and it was confusing.
Then he said it was dangerous.
As if this was the reason why he was putting a ton of non-tea stuff on the tea shelf.
He was trying to save the family.
So I removed a ton of stuff from the top shelf and then moved all the first aid stuff like gauze and white tape and stuff up top, and I also put the dog medicine up there so that there was never the chance that one of our cherubs would unintentionally put a whole bunch of Otomax dog ear medicine in their own ears.
Or accidentally eat all the heart worm chewies.
So there were two shelves dedicated to medicine and one shelf dedicated to tea.
And, by the way, the medicine shelves were freakin’ awesome.
That was two months ago.
Eight Mondays ago, I was in medicine cabinet (ok, shelves) bliss.
And it started slowly. Aways does.
A tube of something near the Earl Grey.
A band-aid on top of the British Breakfast.
And pretty soon you have a milk frother crowding your Republic of Tea’s Decaf People’s Green Tea Daily Green Tea, which is sitting on a roll of medical tape, and is coiled like a spring ready to burst or shatter violently and noisily as a result of rapid combustion, decomposition, excessive internal pressure, or other process, typically scattering fragments widely when some unsuspecting person opens the cabinet door.
I googled the definition of explode.
And wouldn’t you say that tea-as-projectile represents a pretty dang dangerous situation?
Like, say, more dangerous than putting the heartworm medicine next to the cough syrup?
Ya. Me too.
So I’m taking deep breaths.
And saying my rosary
Wait. No, I’m not saying my rosary. That’s not a pre-homicide thing, that’s a post-homicide thing (I’ll save the rosary for later).
Anyway, the Nearly Perfect Husband and Self-Proclaimed-Perfect-Boy-Gabe are due back from their trip to Phoenix tonight.
I have two choices.
One: Reorganize the freakin’ medicine cabinet… again.
Two: Leave it.
And rock the Angelina Jolie bad-ass sexy assassin thing every single time I want a hot cup of darjeeling.
Which one would you pick.
Who’s your daddy now?
Thanks for readin’.*
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