I bought a pair of jeans on-line from Gap. When I got them and tried them on they fit really nicely, except for the extra foot of leg-length. I suppose I could chop them off, but I think the price of the jeans warranted perfection or return. Actually, the pants were called "Perfect-fit jeans," so I don't think I was being to hard on them.
Of course I let them sit around the house for weeks and weeks.
Then I noticed that returns must be made within 45 days. Yikes.
I printed out the pre-paid label and packaged the pants up and tried to drop them off at UPS.
But UPS is closed on Sunday.
So I head out with Lilly this morning before work. I walk up, full of confidence and do that thing where you stand around looking really confused when the door won't open. Like, "What ever could be wrong with this door?! I am tugging very mightily!"
Turns out they don't open until 9:00.
What the heck, UPS? I'm just trying to drop off a freakin package. Put a hole in your door or something. I don't even know what the point is of opening at 9:00. Who isn't at work by 9:00? If you want to catch the morning crowd, you have to open at 8:00, don't you think? And if you aren't worried about the morning crowd, why bother opening before 10?
But I couldn't wait around, so I decided that, given the timeline that was thisclose to rendering my pants valueless, I would risk leaving the package outside of the UPS door.
About a half an hour later, I look back at what I've done.
I've left a package. Unattended. In a public place. All mysterious-like.
That doesn't bother people these days, right?
I called (when they opened) and explained to the UPS lady that I had left a package outside and I wanted her to know it wasn't a terrorist bomb, just pants.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Last week Lilly started doing this thing where she'd wake up for her middle-of-the-night feeding (which she should have outgrown at this point, but whatever, I'm a flexible, accommodating, loving mother so that's okay, no hard feelings), eat until she fell asleep and I put her back in her crib, and WAKE UP TWENTY MINUTES LATER.
Which is just long enough for me to have fallen back asleep.
For the first week or so, I got her back up, nursed her again, and she would go back to sleep for serious.
And then I was like, "screw that."
I mean, that's completely unnecessary. If you are hungry, eat. If you are tired, sleep. I don't want to be up at ALL, let alone be up and being yanked around by a fickle BABY.
Pickle babies? They should make small pickles and call them that.
So I instituted a no-going-to-sleep-and-then-getting-back-up-twenty-minutes-later policy.
Which resulted in a LOT of screaming.
Which Chris did not really appreciate. As he was unaware of her previous irritating nighttime habits, her new, loud, nighttime habits seemed a distinct downturn of events to him.
But, WHATEVER, man. I'm not dealing with that crap anymore. She's a grown-ass baby. She'll learn.
So we had five nights of battling.
She did not learn.
Last night, she woke up to eat at 3:00. I fed her, she fell asleep, I put her back in her crib. I sat down in bed, but did not lie down because I was trying not to be woken up by her imminent screaming. I fell asleep sitting up (ow). She woke up at 3:20. I got her up, fed her again and she went back to sleep for serious.
I felt great about the lack of sustained screaming.
Until I realized that she TOTALLY WON.
I'm a little scared of this child.
I think she's trying to take over the world.