Ouch, my head hurts!

Vacation is eerily reminiscent of summer camp days. First you put sheets on the mattress, which is not much more than a box spring anyway. Then, there's the moldy smell of the wood in humidity. The chill in the air. The bugs.

Perhaps she is alone, but Poker Chick always remembers being miserable the first few days of summer camp. The bugs kept her awake at night. The bathroom smelled funny. And everything seemed dirty. But by the third day she was always over it and everything felt normal.

So those memories came flooding back while she winced putting her lacey underwear in old (and possibly rotting) wooden drawers. And every creak of the "bed" brought the same nostalgia with it.

That aside, the real problem in this house has been herself. Two days ago, she was foraging for snacks in the refrigerator (she's not used to one that big) and jumped up without realizing her head was still slightly in. This resulted in a fast and hard bump on the head. She saw stars. She got immediately dizzy. Tears just started flowing. This was a serious bump on the head.


After a day of ice and some tequila (to "constrict the blood vessels", that was the reason, uh yea....) it felt mildly better. But Poker Chick couldn't leave it at that. No sooner had the throbbing subsided, that she jumped up after kissing the mini goodnight in her bunk bed (who's done bunk beds since summer camp?!) and whacked her head on the top bunk. A major whack. In the same spot.

Ow. Ow, ow ow. Ow, ow. OMG, ow.

Well, maybe she can console herself with the weather report giving her some good news. The group has to leave by 10am tomorrow. The sun was supposed to show today but it's still cloudy outside. Guess when the weatherman says the sun is coming out again? And will stay for the full ten day forecast? Did you guess 10:30 am tomorrow?

It was kind of obvious she was going there, huh?

Insert foot in mouth....here

And this, peeps, is what turns out to be our 200th post. How fitting.
Not surprisingly, Poker Chick is clumsy with words too. Which results in a lot of cases of her foot in her mouth. Tonight's was classic.

While standing at the open door, waiting for the delivery guy to arrive with dinner, Poker Chick was asked if the dishes weren't done or if she thought the dishwasher was breaking. She stated emphatically "it's the dishwasher!"

Unfortunately, she shouted this right as she turned to greet the delivery guy.
Doh!

Cleaning House

Today was an odd day. Poker Chick has had a rather nasty cold the past few days, and this morning she woke up hardly able to swallow and with a low-grade temperature. It was 7:30am and she found herself sleepily making oatmeal and missing her bed while the husband slept. She realized he would need to take the mini to ballet this morning. She did not have the energy for getting dressed and out by 9:00, she desperately just needed to sleep.

9:01. Husband was still sleeping. F*ck. At this point she realized she was screwed. She gulped some mouthwash, threw on clothes and grabbed the mini. They had to run.

On the bus (they were too late to waste time walking the one mile) she decided if she was going to be up at this hour she might as well have the husband take the kid after so she could go to her now-and-again Pilates class (it's a lot harder than it sounds, seriously).

Thirty minutes after ballet and she had somehow gotten the mini changed, dealt with the potty, given her a snack, ran six blocks to the bookstore (all while carrying the "darling" who refuses to walk and eat at the same time), grabbed the workout clothes she forgot from the husband and threw them in her purse, ran another six blocks from there to her class, and changed in a flash once she got there. Even now she's not sure how she made it, it doesn't sound humanly possible. Seriously, that was one manic half hour.

The class was awesome as always, and it's always a bonus that it's taught by a friend. She worked through the sniffles*, and the weirdest thing happened after .

She had.....energy.

She walked home, all her muscles crazy sore, and after a bit of lunch she put the radio on and....just.....started.....cleaning.

If you know Poker Chick IRL you probably don't believe this. If you don't, all you have to do is read any post on how clumsy she is or how she's a sh*tty housewife, and you won't believe it either.

All the clutter under the windowsills....gone. Things thrown out, put away. And - this is the best - her ENTIRE closet switched over to summer. This certainly doesn't sound monumentous but you must remember we're talking about a monumentally messy and lazy person. The huge pile of clothes on top of the hamper had been serving as her closet since last summer. Well, that and the open suitcase next to the bed she's been living in and out of. Shoes were everywhere. But when she was done, not only was she able to put stuff in the hamper she was actually able to close BOTH closet doors!! Winter shoes were hidden away in boxes! Sweaters were put in the tee shirt drawer, while all the tee shirts came out to the closet in full view! Too-big, too-old, and too-outdated clothes were retired to a giant "donate" bag. She excitedly made giant to-do lists, including a small list of items she would need to pick up at the Container store to complete this impromptu project. The Container store? Willingly? Poker Chick?

It was unbelievable. It was like a day of shopping, for free**. With skirts finally on skirt hangers she was able to count them. (She owns 23 skirts. Just skirts. Damn). As shoes were placed next to, rather than on top of, each other she re-found the fun, less practical shoes that were always hidden away (Sparkly blue shoes! Jimmy Choos! And five pairs of flip-flops!). Belts, finally on a belt hanger. She owns a whole bunch of belts. Who knew??

At this point we stop and ask readers not to do the warranted eyeroll. We know most of you "put together" people go through this exercise every year. But believe it or not, Poker Chick had never done the wardrobe switchy-thing. So maybe it was ballet or maybe it was her muscles waking up, maybe it's just spring, or maybe it's Passover. But somehow, the goddess of female domesticity finally found Poker Chick. And so she had to write about it. Because something tells her she'll be gone in the morning.***


*we'll spare you the details of her cold. Add in asthma, imagine all the dust, and well...you can imagine the damage for yourself. It ain't pretty. But hey, her closet now is.
**Dear husband: please note, she still found some gaps she needs to fill this summer. We know what you're thinking as you read this so we're warning you now that shopping is still warranted. Of course it doesn't make sense to you. You're a guy.
***No matter. All that cleaning and this princess is thinking a mani/pedi is in order for tomorrow anyway.

Zzzzz...................

Wondering what lack of sleep will do to you? This morning Poker Chick washed her hair with soap and her body with shampoo. Smooth, Poker Chick. Real smooth.

Excuse Me Please, My Grace is Gone

While some of you know Poker Chick better than others, you're all no doubt familiar with her clumsiness (hey, it's endearing!) Lately she's been at her finest. Here's a banner example. It's written in the first person for a change.


Thursday: I go to an early appointment before work. Being the lazy-ass that I am, I of course don't set my alarm much earlier than usual, which means no time to blow dry the hair. I'm also arrogant and stubborn, so I assume this will not be an issue: I'll get a taxi right away. Now a reasonably intelligent person would have perhaps thought that it might be harder than usual to get a cab a day after a snowstorm; not to mention one where it's so cold all the ice has frozen. But we're not talking about a normal person. We're talking about Poker Chick (that would be me). Can you guess what happens next?

Real hard, right? Yeah. So I can't get a cab to save my life. After 15 minutes of trying and several blocks of walking I concede defeat and wait for the bus. My ears are so cold, they literally hurt. Like burning hurt. I've got no hat of course. Hey, know what happens to wet hair in the cold with no hat? It freezes. It froze into the scrunched-up curls I had tried to achieve. Eventually, it thawed at work, but still had that "frozen" look all day. Fortunately, I was able to not break it while it was still frozen. (I learned that lesson the hard way after several repeat ice storms my freshman year of college.)

When I finally made it to my appointment, 40 minutes and two bus transfers later, I'd practically missed it. So I went to work. After defrosting, I decided I was ready to look like a normal person again. I put makeup on (yep, that step got skipped in favor of extra sleep as well) and took my jacket off and my snow boots off so I could put on the nice black boots that went with my awesome new-ish black dress. Now, it was at this point that I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I was dressed. The hair was almost dry. I had my "Poker Face" on (ha! I kill me!) As I grabbed my soft boots I felt re-energized and ready to start my day. That was when I went to put one on and realized I had been schlepping the wrong boots with me all morning.

This left me with three options:

1. Walk barefoot in the office all day
2. Wear snowboots with the dress all day or
   
3. Wear 5-year old out-of-style ankle boots with a knee length dress

Um, no. None of the above please (though for the record if forced to choose I'd pick option #1 without question).

But I wasn't forced to choose and couldn't accept defeat again. So there went my relief and on came the snowboots and jacket. I'd decided to cab it and run home and back to get the right shoes. I was all the way at the lobby when I realized I had one dollar in my wallet. Sigh.

So up I went again. At this point, I was so determined to not look like I wasn't put together, I decided I had to get those shoes no matter what. In desparation, I borrowed money from Lauren. Yes, the eager hard-working woman who used to be on my team. She's barely two years out of college and makes so little dough, she can't even afford internet access at home. But I borrowed money from her anyway. This is how low I've sunk in the name of vanity.

I'm pleased to report it worked out eventually. By 11 o'clock that morning I was a decent-looking, non-snow boot wearing, working woman again.
And my debt has been repaid (in fact I think Lauren may owe me money now....)

Sadly, such is a typical day in Poker Chick's life. Those who aren't satisfied might want to hear the one a week earlier when I spilled soy sauce all over my carpet. Immediately after, I dragged my brother on a dare to get carpet cleaner downstairs at Rite Aid, even though I was in my pyjamas. If you want to hear more of this klutzy story (or choose from hundreds of others!) feel free to find me off-line. I can tell them with much more dramatic effect in person anyway.