Something was brought to my attention today. I may have one too many sets of cheap/free headphones. Sometimes, I can’t even open my headphone drawer — that’s how many heaphones I have. I could say I used them for running, and needed extra, because after so much running they just fall apart, like tennis shoes do, now I forgot where I was going with that.
One of them is a child’s set (it belongs to my son) but I usually don’t bring them along to the restaurant to plug into the iPad lest people think I’m not just a bad parent, but a really bad one.
I can’t do the buds, so just forget the hell out of that, jerk who might have tried to help me out and suggest that space-saving option. I need my entire ear canal enveloped in delicate, comforting foam. And I need the security of a plastic thing resting across my hair, or, for a time in my twenties, across the bandanna covering my hair.
Actually, I long for a pair of those big, bulbous ones from the 70s and early 80s. I can distinctly remember frequently plugging those into my stereo — I had finally gotten one (a stereo; the headphones were my father’s) in high school as a birthday gift from my mom and her boyfriend. It wasn’t a particularly good or nice stereo, mainly because 3 of the main knobs belonged to a different unit altogether. Mom said the store didn’t have the knobs in, that we would get them later, that these were temp knobs. Picture a stereo from the 80’s, then picture that the 3 main knobs, not the fat ones but the smaller ones, stuck out about 3 inches and looked like someone forced them on with a tool. Plus the knobs themselves looked like their original purpose was to wind something.
It’s because I was so excited to finally be able to listen to the radio and my records on the same console that I bought that cacamame story from my mom and that guy in the first place. I was the music girl, the one who had the records that older people knew about, plus the obscure 80’s ones like Goanna and Let’s Active. How was I to impress the teen set with this inelegantly refurbished model? Well, the real knobs never came, so the answer is I didn’t. I even offered to call the place periodically to check the status of the knobs, but mom said she’d do it, which I guess was code for she’s not going to do it.
So we’re voting for getting rid of all but the child’s headphones, although I need one for running and a spare for running. So to get rid of one of them.
A very special thank you to Angie here at the Gainesville Hampton Inn — she read this blog and presented me with extra of these, so I wouldn’t have to swipe them secretly! I laughed out loud. And then I took them from her.
Behold! A gift wrapped entirely with hoarded scraps of wrapping paper, ribbon, and packing materials! Take that, husband who said I’d never use them! Hey, I get it, it’s not the prettiest gift in the world, I may not be THE BEST at this. Although, who am I to say, maybe I am the best at this? It’s settled, I am.
Part 2 of my cleaning odyssey. Hey, I spelled that word right on my first try!
So, I purchased a Groupon that offered a discounted session with professional organizer Robyn Reynolds, who has worked for the show “Hoarders” and is a great gal in her own right. Here is Part 1 of our story:
What you are looking at is our drawer full of hotel-procured toiletries: shampoos, bath salts, soaps, sewing kits. When we have overnight guests, I’ll go to this drawer and pick out a few items and set them in the guest bath, like a hotel does. Because we’re nice!
My husband is partially-to-mostly to blame on this one. Hubs is a pro at maximizing the volume of these things we take home with us, because he has a system: when we leave the hotel room in the morning for breakfast or whatever, he’ll hide the soap we just used in his suitcase wrapped in a washcloth. Then when the cleaning staff pops by, they replace all the soaps,etc. and the washcloth. Upon our return, he switches out the new and used soaps. Simple, yet elegant.
Reminds me of this one time. We frequent this one hotel, let’s just call it the Scooby Doo hotel. Well, one time the toilet in our room was acting weak — meaning you had to flush a couple of times to get a even a square of TP down it. Well… how can I say this delicately… I had the fast poops right before we were set to check out. I had a feeling to toilet couldn’t handle it, and indeed it did not.
We had to get back home to our baby, so, yes, I left a bowl full of diarrhea in the posh hotel that knows us by name. Does the Scooby Doo have loose-lipped housekeepers? Will this pretty horrible offense be part of our permanent record? How skinny did I look that day? All questions I cannot answer, except the last one, pretty skinny. Hopefully that tip my husband left would have to do– what? You forgot to tip extra for the poop in the toilet? I’ll never show my face there again until at least 3 weeks!