Friday, February 11, 2011

If you give Amanda a cookie...

If you give Amanda a cookie, she will probably want a Diet Coke to go with it.  

As she's pouring her Coke into a tall glass covered in white film, thanks to the new Utah law forbidding phosphates in dishwasher detergent, she'll remember that she needs to start the dishwasher.  

On her way to the dishwasher, she'll step on Cheerios someone dumped onto the floor in proclamation that breakfast was over, and grab the broom to clean them up.  

As she sweeps the kitchen floor, she'll notice the Cheerio mess extending into the living room, so she'll follow it to find the mother-lode in a pile behind the couch.  

As she bends down to get a better look, she'll probably see the chocolate handprints on the arm of the couch, and remove the slip covers for an overdue spin through the washing machine.  

On her way to the laundry room, she'll realize that she should check the girls' bedrooms for dirty clothes before starting the washer, so she'll head downstairs.  

After walking to the other side of the basement, she'll probably notice that a tornado has turned a minutes-ago clean toy room into a disaster zone of epic proportions and in her furor, turn and stomp back up the stairs to get as far away from the mess as possible.

Once she reaches the top of the stairs, she'll probably see the landscape of coats, hats, gloves and snow boots strewn across the floor, with nary a thing hanging on its hook.  While muttering things about kids, grounded, locked in their rooms, and just let them freeze, under her breath, she'll start hanging things up and notice a crumbled paper under a boot and upon closer inspection will see that it's the homework she spent an hour working on with her daughter the night before.

She'll probably shake her head in disbelief and go back up into the kitchen to put the paper on the shelf where she's sure to find it again, and while she's there, she'll notice the phone bill on the shelf and remember that she needs to pay it today.

She'll sit on the side of the couch that now has an indentation remarkably the size of her posterior, and log onto the internet.  Before signing onto Bill Pay, her Facebook page automatically pops up and she'll probably spend the next 30-45 minutes checking statuses and commenting on all the Jimmer jokes.

While she's reading The Jimmer jokes, she'll get a great idea for hilarious valentines and open up her Publisher to start creating them.

While she's laughing hysterically at her own humor, shell need a tissue to wipe yesterday's mascara out of her eye.  

She'll walk to the bathroom and question how on earth the turquoise, white and red striped Aquafresh toothpaste got smeared across the top of the doorway.

She'll probably go to the hallway linen closet to get out a washcloth and upon opening the cupboard, become victim to a waterfall of hair accessories, deodorant, hand towels and pom poms.

She'll have to bend down to pick everything up and when she does, she'll find the spare Church key she's been searching for for two weeks.

She'll need to put the key in a memorable place, so she'll realize the best place is the kitchen shelf.

Once in the kitchen, she'll look around and realize that the dishwasher is not on, the laundry has not been started, the floor is filthy, there's still toothpaste on the bathroom door, the contents of the linen closet are on the hallway floor, the phone bill has not been paid, she can't find the key that was just in her hand, and there's a warm Diet Coke next to a cookie on the counter.

Amanda clearly doesn't need any more cookies.  
But she's in desperate need of a cold Diet Coke.