I recently discovered a new word: wrongheaded. AND I LOVE IT. It’s a real word (Merriman-Webster says so) and yet it sounds so hip and like cool people use it.
I want to be cool. I want to use it.
Joey was picking up Ana’s train tracks and I was sitting here thinking if how I could actually use “wrongheaded” in a verbal sentence. I foolishly mentioned it to Joey, and he smirked and said, “The fact that you’re trying to do that is just wrongheaded. BOOM. Do you see what I did there?”
I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE.
And then he was all, you’re just mad because I used it first.
(He’s right. I am.)
The man’s wrongheaded if he thinks he can get away with that kind of nonsense.
I love camping, but my lungs don’t love it. At least not during peak ragweed season. (Or tree pollen. Or grass.) Asthma ain’t messin’.
I woke up hard when my alarm went off at 7:00 this morning, Joey was out for a run and Ana almost immediately started hollering for me to PLEASE PLAY THE GET UP NOISE!!! so I got up and played the duck quacking alarm on my phone. It’s always random mornings that she wants to hear it, but the “get up noise” originally was for nap time on days when she just rested and didn’t sleep.
So she was up and RUNNING, while I followed around wheezing and hacking like it’s my full time job, when in reality making adventures for Ana is where I put the full time hours. (Wheezing and hacking is just my part time gig.)
Everyone in our family was running this morning but me.
When Joey got in the door and saw me hacking he told me to stay home from church this morning. But I just laughed (and then hacked) and told him that wasn’t happening.
It’s amazing how much difference Symbicort and Ventolin make after they’ve had a chance to bake themselves into my lungs for an hour. (Maybe it also helps that Ana went to church with Joey and I’ve been sitting on the couch not moving since they left.)
There are dishes in the sink, sticky spots on the counters, fingerprints on the windows, dust on everything, and hair all over the bathroom floor.
Can’t guarantee I make it to church with matching clothes on, but I’ll be there by 10:30.
Or maybe 10:45.