Believe it or not, this mixing bowl is why it's totally impossible to stay irritated at Razor/the Guy Who Knows a Song about a Chicken for even fifteen seconds:You know how when someone comes over and you're like, "Well, he's not here yet. I get a chance to put away my dirty socks before he sees my sorry excuse for housekeeping."
And then like ten or fifteen more minutes go by and your like, "Let's see, do I start some serious cleaning or do I just settle in with a book and try to pretend to be one of those relaxed kind of people?"
So then you start reading blogs instead. But every single time the cat jumps up about some godforsaken piece of fluff you told the kids to throw away three days ago, y'know how you have to stop and figure out if the cats are trying to use their supersonic hearing to tell you someone's coming up the stairs?
But then no matter how many times they jump up it turns out that the piece of fluff really was the cats' main concern and that they don't actually care if anyone's climbing the steps or not.
So you think you'll call up a friend and chat, but realize that it's too late to call and even if you did you'd mostly likely have to cut the conversation short because surely he's about to waltz through the door any ole' second.
So you go back to reading for awhile. But then it occurs to you that maybe turning on the cell phone would be a good idea because maybe, God forbid, he's in a ditch or a hospital somewhere. Or as my cousin and dad explained once, he could have been an explosion that blew off both his hands so he couldn't dial a phone.
And you remind yourself that it never turns out that the men are in a ditch OR have both their hands blown off. It always just turns out that they were totally convinced that time would bend or stretch out for them JUST THIS ONE TIME. Occasionally it turns out that the cell phone ran out of battery.
So then you turn on the phone and it turns out he HAS been trying to call.
And when you call back he says something about the possibility of you being asleep by the time he gets there and you're all thinking, "WHAT?!?! I've been sitting here analyzing every last noise in the apartment complex (not to mention my cats' motives for attacking fluff) for the past hour and I'm going to fall asleep when you're twenty minutes away?!?! None for me thanks!!!!!" But your better judgment takes over just for a split second and all you say is, "I'm awake."
So then you decide it's a great time to get some vacuuming done. Because why wouldn't 11:00 at night be the perfect time to vacuum?!?
But then you get this idea in your head that maybe he mentioned falling asleep because he's really thirty or forty minutes away and not twenty. So you call up to make sure but then hang up on him after one ring because for some reason your rational side takes over just in the nick of time...
No? That doesn't happen to you? Is all that just me then? Ok, because I thought everyone was as impatient as I am.
Something VERY similar happened to me recently, but when Razor/The Guy Who Knows A Song About A Chicken DID show up, he arrived with the above pictured glass mixing bowl. Did I mention I broke my favorite mixing bowl awhile back and had wished for a replacement just the previous morning?
I mean seriously folks, how can you even attempt to stay irritated with a guy like that?!?!?!? It's just not even possible.