That was the big gift, you know. That the kids all have their own rooms. That doesn’t seem like much of a gift, but when you have a three bedroom house with 5 people living in it, someone is bound to get screwed. Well guess what, two people got screwed on that deal. My two youngest have shared a bedroom for the last three years. Three years ago they were 5 and 7; Owen being 5 and Audrey being 7. Then it wasn’t a big deal. They were little and thought every night was a sleepover where they could laugh and giggle and make fart sounds till one of them fell asleep. It was one big overnight party filled with one messy room and lots of flatulence. Well things change as you get older. The idea of taking the blame for a messy room when in fact it’s only one person doing most of the messing things up becomes more of a touchy subject. Having the curse of feng shui becomes even more painful when you can’t move things around as a toy fills every nook and cranny. Then there’s the smell of dirty clothes that permeates the air because you have two growing kids with working sweat glands stinking up the joint every day. And then there’s the privacy thing. Privacy is a priceless commodity, so the wife and I decided to bite the bullet and have an egress window installed in the basement bedroom so our oldest(she will be 14 in May)could have her bedroom downstairs without having “death trap” echo in the backs of our minds every time she went to bed. The project started on December 9th and finished up this past Monday. The contractor called my wife to let us know he was officially done and that we could drop off that $3,300 check anytime at the office.
After the last five days and a mad dash to get things painted, put together, rearranged; and old things gotten rid of and currently residing in a garage already overfilled with junk the kids are in their new pads. The girls rooms are done(the oldest needs a closet which I’ll get on this weekend and next week when I’m off work), and my son just needs his room patched, sanded, and painted(another project for next week.) They all slept in their new rooms last night, so they all got to wake up in their new pads for Christmas morning. Sure, they had some odds and ends to open this morning(come on, new rooms including all the furnishings aren’t “exciting” gifts.) My son received the ‘X-Men Trilogy’ dvd set, along with some Imaginext Spongebob goodies. Our 10 year old received one of those ‘Just Dance’ games that I never play, plus a cool chair for her new room and a silver heart pendant necklace her old man thought she might like. The oldest got a book, a Dr. Who calendar, and a Dr. Who Sonic Screwdriver. Pretty damn cool. My wife and I didn’t buy each other anything…or so I thought. She ended up buying me a nice pocket knife(which I cut myself with before I even got it out of the packaging.) She bought herself a chain for a heart pendant she had so she could wear it as a necklace, plus she bought herself the ‘More Time Moms’ calendar I normally buy her every year. What did I buy myself? Funny you should ask me that. I’m typing this post my gift to myself. I’d been looking for some sort of WiFi-based thingy to do my writing on, but didn’t want a iPad or normal laptop, as we have an HP laptop. I wanted something smaller and easily carried. So after some searching and chin scratching I decided on the Samsung Chromebook. So far I love it. The keyboard is very similar to a Macbook. The keys are nice and punchy, not spongy at all. The screen is big enough, and I have access to everything I use online right here. There’s really not much storage, but when you have a Google acct you have access to 100gb of storage with the Google Drive. Plus, I’ve got a ton of storage right here at WordPress. I’m good as gold, baby. Good as gold. So, I highly recommend this little baby. Now I need a cool bag to tote it around in. I will break it in at a local WiFi-friendly coffee shop next week.
Merry Christmas to my blogging community, as well as anyone else reading these words I’ve typed with bedhead, natty t-shirt, and paint-stained pajama pants; as well as a cup of coffee by my side. May your blessings be counted, your coffee be hot, and your pants not be on fire.