Caffeine the Wonder Drug

When I see that title, my brain reads it as, “Cocaine the Wonder Drug,” and that right there is my problem.  It’s quite possible I had way too much caffeine yesterday, and my brain is freaking out.

Yesterday I felt a possible migraine coming on after picking the boys up from school.  It could have been a regular headache, but seeing as how the migraines make me want to poke my brain out with Legos, I decided not to take any chances.  I took some medicine and also went for caffeine.  The caffeine I ingested included but is not limited to: a liter of Coke, cookies with chocolate on the back, M&M’s, and Excedrin tension headache pills.  (Caffeine in pill form! I love modern medicine!)

Oh dear, Mommy has a headache. Everyone lay low.

I should have been wary of side-effects seeing as this all started at 3pm, but the headache stayed mild and eventually disappeared, so I was willing to take a little sleeplessness.  What I got was wide-awakeness.  It was not pleasant.

If my bedroom was a TV cartoon, you would have seen total dark pierced by my 2 wide eyeballs shifting back and forth.  (Also? The horrible sound of my sick husband mouth-breathing and coughing up his lungs.)

My heart was racing, and my mind was crafting the world’s best blog posts which I cannot recall because I’m not high anymore.  I heard all the noises our neighbors, who I’ve named the Clompersons, made as they returned from wherever God had sent them the last few days so that I didn’t kill them for their loud walking and annoying baby talk.

When I finally drifted off to sleep, my son Jack decided to add to my suffering by calling for me. Now, my kids are not good sleepers, so this is not an unusual occurrence.  What was unusual was that he ended up in my bed for a while.  I’m not sure how this happened.  He asked me to sit in his room.  I told him it was way too late for that.  He said something about my bed being comfy.  He packed up his lovies like details had been ironed out and a contract signed and held his hands up for me to get him out of his bed.  Next thing I know, I was laying there without a pillow with him on one side and snoring sick man on the other both trying to squeeze me to death.  I eventually carried him back to his bed, but the damage had been done.

Now, I’m one tired lady.  I’ve promised to take the boys to an indoor play place that is notorious for playing Alvin and the Chipmunks covers of pop songs.  How will I ever cope?

Stay away from my kid you no-talent hack!

Heeeeeeyyyy, is that Coke?

But You Can Call Me Jerkface


So, my debit card actually has Michael’s name on it.  (Which is fine because I can only imagine the pain in the rear it was to even order a second card.)  In Poland, most stores have you actually hand your debit card to the clerk instead of swiping it yourself like in the US.  I assume this is so they can match the name and person.  Why do I assume this?  Well, there is this one grocery store that ALWAYS checks it.  Some clerks just shrug it off, but most of them actually raise the issue.  I try to get out of it by claiming not to know what they are asking me about.  This backfired one day when a clerk then repeated his question in perfect English.

My other method of getting past this issue is to claim the card actually HAS my name.  As in Michelle spelled crazy.  This actually works!  In fact, the last time I did this, the clerk was a very nice young lady (God, I’m old…) who apologized profusely for thinking the card wasn’t mine.  I slunk out of the store feeling awful that I had tricked her.

Well, she was my clerk again today.  She had to call a manager over for something, and I figured out that they also talked about how I was the lady she had thought had someone else’s card and that she thought it said Michael, not Michelle.  It appears this story was memorable.  I felt even worse!

Sure, my name is Michelle spelled like Michael, but you can call me Jerkface.