Not Me! Monday

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama.

Oh Monday, Monday..

This week I did not get completely creeped out when I saw the ugliest spider ever in my bedroom who, when I tried to catch him (with a glass and a piece of cardboard, while wearing rubber gloves), ran away... under my bed. I have not slept with one eye open and the "Jaws" theme running through my head every night since. I am not getting goosebumps and an itchy scalp while writing this.

I also did not think I was going nucking futs when I unloaded the groceries and (for the second week in a row) could not find the sugar I was sure I bought. After not scouring the grocery receipt, I did not remember that I left the sugar on the scale. (Yes, I buy bulk sugar. Our last Money Tree died and we haven't got a new one yet. I buy lots of bulk stuff now. Having not very much grocery money sucks.)

I did not make dough for bread, set it on the warm stovetop, and forget about it. I do not have the personal experience to tell you doing that will cause the dough to rise up to the ungreased very top of the largest mixing bowl you can find and boy isn't it fun to try and get it out of the bowl after that.

I did not uh.. "misplace" my children (for enough minutes to cause my heart to stop and try to leap out of my throat in an effort to kill itself) on more than one occasion this week. I also did not fall back asleep for half an hour this morning when Hot Stuff woke me up to say, "I'm on my way to work. Princess is awake downstairs." I did not come flying down the stairs (frankly, I am surprised I did not kill or seriously injure myself. Or at least break some kind of land speed record) and promptly check her over and smell her breath to make sure she hadn't gotten into anything (Which she hadn't. She was too busy making a giant mess in the bathroom sink. And the floor.)

I did not totally forget to call my dad yesterday. I am not the worst daughter in history, especially as my sister did not specifically call to remind me to call my dad.

Speaking of Father's Day, I did not get totally burned and shut down by Hot Stuff when I went to bed last night. Here's how it did not go down:

I put on my cleanest, 3rd least-rattiest exercise shirt and some stretch pants (yes, I go to bed in exercise clothes with hopes that I will be motivated to workout first thing in the morning cause, hey! I'm already wearing the clothes), climbed into bed and said, "Hey, it's Father's Day. Want some Father's Day booty?"
"Nah, not feeling it tonight," he said.
"Really?" I ask in my sexiest voice, as I drape myself all over him, drawing circles on his hairy man-beast chest.
"No, I'm good."
"Are you sure? I don't have my peeerrrrioooddd."
Silence.
"Um. Wow. Thanks.. gonna pass."

I think it was the shirt.