Efforts to reset the smoke alarms failed, so I stepped out on the back porch rather than attempt to find ear plugs in my frazzled, not thinking clearly state. Through the open front door and the screen on the slider, I saw a police officer drive by slowly and -- of course -- pull into the drive. So I walked through the house (barefoot, braless -- hey, I was at _home_ being comfortable before this happened) to explain myself because I figured I was gonna have to anyway so why wait. I said, "kitchen", and we had a brief exchange. Then he very politely asked if he could see some ID and I said, sure. There have been daylight breakins right across the street and he was hearing alarms go off. Seemed like a reasonable request. I said I'd have to go get it inside and that was fine so I headed in, stopped and thanked him, got the ID, came back. He called it in, which made me even happier, because if I'm gonna have a whole series of idiotic, alarm setting off errors, I'd like the local emergency services to notice the trend around incident 3 rather than, say, incident 10 or 20. I mean, I don't _think_ that's going to happen, but My Brain Isn't Working Properly.
We had some chitchat about how long I'd lived in the house, the previous residents of the house, how he used to shovel out the drive for the previous residents. I observed that the previous resident (man) had died last month and I knew this because the previous resident (woman) had changed billing on her NYT delivery and mistakenly put this address rather than her current address on the form. Oooops -- you know, sort of like putting the wrong amount of time into the microwave and smoking the chocolate in the blondie. Wow does chocolate smoke smell especially awful.
I took T. to gymnastics. We're _still_ waiting to get his swimsuit back from last Friday; I'm about to order another, because if the second goes missing, he can't go to swimming lessons. Then we stopped and got him a haircut, because he's feeling like it is long enough that it is making his head feel hot. Shortly after he left (and after a 15 minute nap I took in an effort to reset my brain -- it sort of helped. I think.), A. came home. She had a scholastic book order form in her backpack and like 6 of those 4 page catalogs (why? WHY? oh never mind). So we placed an order for books, then I got her to work on homework (sentence scramble). Then I suggested TV, but she had decided she would rather count to 1000 by 5s instead and wanted a large piece of paper to work on it. While she was working on her tally, I read to her (another part of the daily homework. Seriously, what is it with daily homework in 1st grade?). Then I suggested TV again, but no, still working on the counting.
Somewhere during the day, I went for a couple walks, cooked the chicken drumsticks, cooked the bacon, ate lunch and started the dishwasher. It's clear that my life is actually ticking along okay, brain failures and all. It just feels like a rolling disaster.