Things I won’t tell you. Or can’t tell you.

FIRST. I want to give a huge shout-out and HUG to all of the people that have bought raffle tickets for School Fest at Lakeland School. You are AWESOME. It is SO heartwarming to get your emails about how you would LOVE to give. Through blog-readers alone, over $150 has been raised for Lakeland School! That is AMAZING!!! If you haven’t yet, read my post about my favorite sister. If you don’t want to buy a ticket, that’s fine, seriously. I like it a lot as an FYI type of a post.

Anyways. On to other things.

Someone asked me the other day why I haven’t written a blog in a while. Guess what. Sometimes, people lead boring lives and don’t HAVE entertaining stories to tell. Really.

You don’t want to hear about how I was in California for a week (Disneyland for one day) roasting in the 105* weather. I went with Nancy, Jenna, Tay, and Sonia – Taylor’s BFFL (best friend for life for those of you who aren’t all hip with the internet lingo). We shopped. We baked in the sun. We told the people that shared the pool with us that no, we do not want to play the game of keep-away with you in the pool, because we are not fun people. Please.
You don’t want to hear about how when I was in California, my hairline got REALLY sunburned (who remembers to put sunscreen in their hair?) and on the like, second day that I was there it was all peeling and scaley and gross, and my sisters kept being like “EW Sara, your face is GROSS”, so on Wednesday when we were shopping I bought a hat (a classy Tommy Hilfiger white tennis-esque baseball cap) and wore it every time that we were in the sun which was all the time, and then they made fun of THAT. THANKS.
You don’t want to hear about how Peter picked me up from the airport and then we went to dinner and I got pizza sauce on my brand new shirt that I had JUST taken the tags off of. And that I’m wearing said shirt again today and just noticed a stain on the arm. Seriously?
You don’t want to hear about how when I came in to work on Monday morning, my desk was a mess and I had over 200 unread messages in my inbox. And the first one that I opened was in Spanish in ALL CAPS LOCK WONDERING WHY I WASN’T RESPONDING TO THEIR URGENT REQUEST. Well. If you would have read the away message that I had up, you would KNOW that I was GONE and you would KNOW who to CONTACT in my ABSENCE. I KNOW that it is hard to live without me, but PLEASE. TRY.
You don’t want to hear about how Wednesday they did a construction project on my cubicle while I was SITTING in it, and now everyone comes back to my dead-end and tells me how much room I have. Who cares? What am I going to do, sprawl out on the floor and take a nap or something? Do stretches around 2:30 to rejuvenate me for the rest of the day?
You don’t want to hear how I went grocery shopping at a super sketchy grocery store that smelled like cigarette smoke, had expired milk, and didn’t give me any bags to bag my groceries. So I had to bring them all ($42.91 worth of groceries) to my car in the cart and pile them in my backseat, and then take about 17 trips back and forth, up and down my stairs, to and from my car to get them all onto my kitchen table/counter/living room floor where they are still sitting today.
Then, there are the things that I WANT to write about but CAN’T, because I really like my job (aside from emails in all CAPS in a foreign language), and because I don’t want anyone (ahem, Peter) to get upset because I told them that I wouldn’t.
Like, I want SO badly to tell you about the conversations that Peter and I had on our car ride to western Wisconsin last weekend on our way to my friends’ wedding. The reason I’m not going to tell you about how Peter used to get into fights in grade school, and got SUSPENDED for it, is because I don’t want to provoke that fiery temper. Although, the last time he hit someone (that I’m aware of) was to defend me (another story, for another time), so I mean hey, I love someone who’s willing to throw a punch for the love of their life. But there WAS that one time that he elbowed me in the head in his sleep, but I don’t like sharing that because I don’t want people to think that he did it on purpose.
I can’t tell you about how I came into work one day this week and someone was wearing an eye patch, and when I was talking to them, they said “aye”, which made me want to laugh because you just CAN’T say that when you have an eye patch on. You can’t do it. It’s like, an un-written law or something.
I can’t tell you that I’m DYING to know what Peter is getting me for my birthday, because he reads this blog, and I don’t want him to know how CRAZY he is making me for telling me that he knows what he’s getting me even though my birthday is not until the END of JUNE. And he KNOWS that I HATE it when he does that.
But I can tell you that I started laughing really hard the other day when Peter said this:

2 thoughts on “Things I won’t tell you. Or can’t tell you.

  1. Mom had to take the picture of the girls! And Sara Jane!!!!I just bought you that shirt! You know you can't eat any kind of red sauce without spilling. Peter, tell me what the gift is so I can also torment her. I do so enjoy that game.


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