Because I've got nothing better to do.....

As Im sure you can tell, Im kind of a boring person, with not much to do in life, except for, write this blog and stuff.

Pooper is on a swim team, and the coach needed to see a copy of his birth certificate. They like to verify age, and be all official. Well, the deadline to turn it in has long passed, and the coach gave us the FINAL day to get it to him....this past Friday.

Because we live in a perpetual state of organization and order, I couldnt find the darn thing. So Friday, because we like to live on the edge, and wait until the last possible minute, My Honey went on his lunch break, to the county offices, and got an official copy. And then he came home, and brought a copy to the coach, leaving it in an envelope under his front door mat.

Imagine my surprise this morning (Monday), when the coach emailed me to say he never go the birth certificate! I was rushing around, getting each kid ready, and myself too, as I work Monday mornings, and started freaking out, wondering why the coach didnt have it.

I called My Honey, who said, "I dropped it off at #39, just like the coach said."....which is so weird, that the coach would say that, since his house is number 34!

I got in the car and drove up to the coaches house, looking for number 39, so I could get the darned thing and turn it in....and found an entire street of EVEN numbered houses.

In my most tender loving voice, I called My Honey and asked if he could think about where he might have left the BC. Do you remember the color of the house? (NO) Do you remember the style (a white porch), can you remember if it was on the corner, the middle of the street? (I dont know). After driving in circles searching for a white porch, scavenging around on a few door steps, and explaining my suspicious behavior to a couple of curious folks......I called back My Honey, who now was wondering if he hadnt just gone to the wrong street altogether.

And why not. What fun would it be to just drop it off at the right house? What else would we do with our morning if we didnt sneak through a neighborhood looking under pumpkins and mats? How totally bland it would be to go through the day without imagining how far in the "new identity" process an illegal immigrant had gotten with our son's birth certificate.

After work, My Honey came home, and retraced his steps, and found the envelope under someone's mat, and brought it to the coach. Whew! Thank goodness...except, now we are totally bored again.

AND, to boot, my heart is breaking, that my new daughter hasnt written me in 3 days.