Paul calls me this morning from Starbucks, naturally. I see his digits on the caller ID, then see his wallet, resting next to the phone. I pick up the phone and answer, "Your wallet is right here."
"Shit," he replies. Then he lays down the bombshell. "Oh, and I have Joel's car seat."
Damn. That's the problem with the handy-dandy retractable car seats. Having two bases, I can drive Joel one place while Paul takes Owen to other places. This is a good thing. Unless I neglect to remove said car seat from Paul's commuter car and Paul feels the need to drive the empty car seat across county lines. "I guess I'm staying home today."
"I'm sorry," he replies.
"Me too," I reply, working really hard not to sound A) bitchy or B) desperate. You see, this day marks day three of Operation Never Leave the House. With each day of self or snow-induced house arrest, I become a little loopier, and a little uglier.
Today, for example, I am wearing a ski hat around the house. In the best light, this is a funky little accessory, a crunchy chapeau. In reality, however, this is a half-assed attempt to cover up my hair, which has been in a ponytail and now has the look and consistency of dried up taffy.
I decided to get dressed, meaning I put on jeans instead of wearing pajama bottoms. I did not, however, change the shirt which I wore all day yesterday, slept in, and am now wearing for yet another cycle. My logic is that since I'm not leaving the house, I am not impressing anybody, and I am reducing our household's laundry, and thus, saving the planet!
Perhaps I should be more concerned about my mental hygiene, as opposed to my personal hygiene. I spent almost ten minutes singing, "Oops, I Did it Again!" by singer-poet Britney Spears to Joel, who smiled and laughed. That would be an achievement if it took much to make him laugh. Let's just say a roomful of Joels is not a tough crowd. Owen's recipe for instant baby giggles: standing half an inch from his head and screaming, "Ka-Chow!" (a la Cars). Works every time.
Besides amusing the baby, I played Moon Sand with Owen. I usually don't recommend toys, but Moon Sand is really cool, if you don't mind sweeping up sand after the fact. This particular toy kit has brick molds, so you can make a wall out of sand. See, I told you it was cool. I was happily playing with Owen, making a wall of bricks, which he then smashed like the Hulk, delighting in his destruction. When he destroyed my cool wall, I felt sad. Truly.
This exercise in exile is making me wonder where things could go. How much further will I regress? Will I begin to eat with my fingers and toes? Communicate through gesture, grunts, and signs? Perhaps I will mark the days on the wall with a stone or become good friends with a volleyball. I don't know.
I do know one thing. That car seat is returning to its rightful home in the Subaru. And, by God, we will leave the house tomorrow.