curse you Garcia!!!

I may have mentioned once or twice this week that we are remodeling our bathroom. Maybe, I can’t recall. I would really have to look back and see what I’ve written… you wait here okay? I’ll go check…

THumP

ClanG

CRASH….

*pant pant*

Okay guys, I looked and yeah, I keep talking about this remodel, but here’s the thing, this is my blog so I guess if you’re for some reason drawn in by my captivating personality you’re gonna have to take a break from my me me me look at me-ness and my talkity talk talk about something my kid said, my technological whoring and my bizarre adoration & unwavering affection for the crazy Mr. Kaos to listen to me babble about tiles and toilets and grout and the GENIUS remodeling techniques that previous owners have employed in this house.

As I was saying, last night we had to go all the way over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s House of All Things Home Improvement Related out there in that darn Vancouver, Washington. It took 6 years to get there, I had to travel back in time to post this blog today. About 10 minutes before we got to the store K began whining from the back seat about needing to go potty.

This is why mothers everywhere tell kids to pee before they leave the house. Did I tell her to? I can’t recall. I always do but I can’t remember so instead of being reasonable and sweet and reassuring and telling her to just hold it a little longer I say “Well maybe you should’ve have gone before we left, now you’ll just have to hold it” and then I might have growled.

Yes that is me, I am not the nice mother I make myself out to be. No one judge me, I am in cranky remodel mode. Besides Mr. Kaos was judgey enough with the incredulous look I received. To which I replied “Don’t start, keep your eyes on the road” and then I turned up the kids radio station and pretended I was on a sunny beach with the waves licking at my toes.

Instead of parking when we got to the store the Mr. pulled up in front of the doors to let us out and we hurried in to find the restroom. By the time the bathroom fiasco was done my phone was ringing. Mr. Kaos called from the far away land of floor tiles to ask “Where you at dog?”. Within moments we hopped skipped and then jumped right into the tile isle where my tile was being loaded into our cart. PRAISE something… I have my tile. We went around to the next isle to look at the tile choices for the shower and wall when suddenly

CK: Mama.

tug tug, scuffle. Jump JUMP hop

CK: Mama??? Mama I need to go to the bathroom.

CK: Again????

K: Yep. Come on lets go. Vamanos!

So all the way back across to the other side of the store to pee the tiniest trickle in the history of urination and then all the way back to the tile section where suddenly Mr. Kaos looks like he is in on the biggest conspiracy in the history of the world. He knows what went down and he’s ready to blow the whistle on every son of a bitch involved. He’s on his way to meet some shady reporter in a poorly lit parking lot… He knows man.

MK: Hurry up, are these the ones we want? Get however many you need we have to go.

CK: What’s up?

MK: We need to go now, come on quick I’ll tell you on the way.

So we load up the cart, now with 8 cases of my precious floor tile that can not be purchased legally in 49 states and is being horded and sold like a drug, and enough tiles to line the entire length of our wall twice.

MK: We’ll get the rest later, come on, we need to go.

CK: really honey, what are you talking about

MK: Curse you Garcia…

On the way to the check stand he oh so quietly explained that while I was on the 2nd trip to the bathroom an employee of Grandmother’s House of All Things Home Improvement Related peered into the cart and asked…

Employee: Did you call about this tile?

MK: No, my wife did though.

Employee: Oh, are you Garcia?

MK: … No…

Employee: So you didn’t call to reserve it all?

MK: No, my wife called this morning.

Employee: Oh…

Then the employee walked away. And then when Mr. Kaos went to the place where he had gotten the tile to replace a single piece of it we had been using to compare to the wall tile he noticed that the other 10 cases were GONE. Poof. Vanished.

So obviously he wanted to get out of the store with the goods as fast as we could. We checked out (being careful to remember to tell them we lived in Oregon, yes it might make it easier for Garcia to find us, but who wants to pay $50 dollars in sales tax?)

On the long drive home in the time machine we decided that Garcia must be the same man who has systematically cleaned out each and every one of the Portland Metro area locations of Grandmother’s House of All Things Home Improvement Related. We chanted “Curse you Garcia” over and over again until K, the sleepy voice of sanity said “hey you two, knock it off and leave Garcia alone!”

as long as she’s not around to hear it though: Curse you Garcia.

I’m sure wherever Garcia is he’s screaming: Curse you family Kaos!!!!