So THIS Is Why I Just Can’t Do It…

When I wrote the other day that I’m not actually a grown-up, I was surprised (and delighted) that so many of you claimed to have the same problem, and I felt a little better. Then I found this draft of a blog post I wrote a year or so ago, and felt a lot better, because I realized there’s a reason I have a hard time behaving like an adult: it’s because my family has given me brain damage.

This conversation took place in the car while driving home from a Sunday morning pancake breakfast, and was made even more emotionally unmanageable for me because of a three-cup coffee buzz that was competing with an early-onset pancake coma.

Full disclosure: I have a nagging suspicion that the reason I never published this was because some of the dialogue was embellished in spots where I couldn’t remember the exact words, or who said what. But please believe me when I say that even if this is not 100% accurate, it is perfectly accurate in spirit.

Mike: Why are all mattress stores called Mattress King?

Me: Yeah, why not Mattress Queen?

Liz: Why does it even have to be a monarchy?

Hubby: Like, why not a Mattress Roundup?

Mike: A monarchy is government run by four or five individuals, Liz, not a king.

Liz: An oligarchy! And if it has to be an oligarchy, I think the stores should be called Mattress Princess.

Mike: Of course you do.

Me: I love my mattress.

Mike: What if instead of backpacks, we carried our school books on top of sheep? And instead of throwing our backpacks on the floor at school, we’d throw down our sheep.

Me: Um…

Mike: And then the sheep would chase people.

Hubby: Why would the sheep chase people?

Mike: Because that’s what sheep do.

Hubby: Or Mattress Rodeo. That’s a good one, too.

Me: But where would we all get our sheep?

Mike: Everyone has sheep.

Liz: Nobody has sheep.

Hubby: Everybody has goats.

Mike: Sure. Goats would work, too.

Liz: Because every family in Fort Collins keeps at least one goat.

Hubby: Mattress Democracy.

Me: Please everybody stop talking.

Mike: Also, why are mattress stores always going out of business? But then they never close down. And six months later they’re having a going out of business sale again.

Me: Isn’t that illegal?

Mike: Going out of business?

Me: No. Saying you’re having a going out of business sale but then not going out of business.

Mike: Do we have any Oreos?

Me: They’re in the secret cabinet.

Liz: I guess it’s not illegal if you’re an oligarchy.

Mike: Right. So it’s not against the law to pretend to be going out of business, because if you’re a mattress oligarch, you make the law. Hence, Mattress King.

Me: Wow. I’ve learned so much from this conversation.

Liz: This is not a conversation.

Hubby: We have a secret cabinet?

Liz: I don’t even know what’s going on.

Mike: What about Mattress Kings in cities? What if they’re on the top floor of a skyscraper? It would be too hard to get the mattresses down to the ground.

Liz: They throw them out the window. And if they have a really bad day, they jump out the windows themselves, but they don’t get hurt because they land on the pile of mattresses at the bottom. It’s actually fantastic.

Mike: Skyscrapers are really tall.

Me: I wonder why they call them skyscrapers?

Mike: I don’t know. Nobody does.

Hubby: How come I didn’t know about the secret cabinet?

Me: Obviously because it’s a, you know…

Hubby: It’s not a secret if the kids know about it.

Mike: Everybody knows about it. It was only a secret for, like, a day.

Me: But the Oreos were safe for that whole day.

Hubby: Why do we need to keep the Oreos safe, again?

Me: Because if they’re not hidden, everyone eats them.

Mike: Don’t you buy them so we can eat them?

Liz: Yes, but not all of them in a single day.

Me: I need to find a new secret cabinet.

Hubby: Nobody gets a secret cabinet!

Me: Liz keeps secret vanilla latte coffee packets in her room.

Liz: Mom! Why did you say that?

Me: I have no idea.

Hubby: Liz, that’s not fair! I’m going to put them in the regular coffee cabinet when we get home.

Liz: No! Then you’ll drink them all!

Hubby: You don’t get to hoard the coffee. It’s family coffee. The coffee belongs to everyone. Everyone gets their fair share of coffee.

Mike: It’s communist coffee. Like Russia. Russia has communist coffee.

Liz: I hate everything.

Me: I’m taking to my mattress when we get home. Please nobody bother me.

Mike: I just hope your mattress doesn’t go out of business.

Liz: Or get thrown out a window.

Obviously, conversations like this are the reason I can’t remember things like why I walked into the laundry room carrying an empty box of granola bars and wearing only one shoe.

My advice? Save your brain cells, people! You may need them later in the day when you have to decide between frozen pizza or frozen macaroni and cheese. Of course, engaging in conversations like this can be fun, too – just plan ahead and make sure you’ve got time for a nap before dinner. A long one. On a good mattress. With no kids. (Husbands may be allowed, but only if they’re quiet and don’t grill you about the location of the secret cabinet.)

Have fun ‘til next time!

Jen

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