My cousin and her family have been in town visiting friends this week. They live in Illinois so I don't get to see them very often. We met at the park on Monday so our kids could get acquainted (they have a 1YO and 3YO who didn't exist yet when last we met) and I had the brilliant idea to have them, my parents and my brother's family over for supper on Friday. Well, my parents typically stay overnight when they come for supper and my brother asked if his family (wife & baby) could stay as well for reasons not important enough to go into here. Anyway, the overnight thing raised my stress level mildly, but I thought since I had plenty of time to get the house cleaned, sheets changed, groceries bought, food prepared, etc., it was no big deal. In theory, I was right. However, in practice, I spent the first part of the week doing other "projects" that were important and needed to be done, but were not exactly priorities. And by "first part of the week", I mean Monday through Thursday. Thursday evening I had a minor panic attack because I had only completed about 10% of what needed to be done. Oh, and The Idiot is having tummy troubles again so she pooped in the house and I had to take her to the vet AND clean up poop. Ultimately, I got the house clean & ready for guests and appetizers & dinner prepared and everyone had a lovely time. (I even put together beautiful fall centerpieces for the breakfast and dining room tables.) But why do I procrastinate so? Why did I wait until the last minute to do everything? A friend of mine (let's call her St. Mary) says that we thrive under pressure. Okay, but why? Why? Why?

As I was researching list prices for automated litter boxes on Ebay, I saw a listing for a CitiKitty to toilet train cats. Weird, huh? What's weirder is that someone paid about $250 for one of them. The ultimate in weirdness was that I was perusing Overheard in NY a few minutes ago (as I generally do for daily entertainment) and came across this little tidbit:

Owner: Actually, I Like a Gentle Up-and-Down Motion -- The Roughened Tongue Will Be Ideal

Broker: This is not a pet-friendly property.
Girl: Does it matter if my cat is toilet-trained?
Broker: I don't understand.
Girl: My cat doesn't have a litter box. It uses the toilet. Does that help?
Broker: I am not sure if that makes a difference. How did you do it?
Girl: I used a training kit. CitiKitty.
Broker: It might impress the owner, but I am not sure it makes a difference. Does your cat flush?
Girl: It will if that helps me get the apartment.

--82nd & Columbus

via Overheard in New York, Sep 25, 2006

And in case you're wondering why I was looking up litter boxes on Ebay, it's because I'm selling one for my mom. She bought one and never opened it and now wants to get rid of it. Don't ask...

You Sure? 'Cause You Guys Both Look Like Candidates for Lithium Therapy

Dork #1: So what's your favorite element?
Dork #2: Ummm... I guess rhodium.
Dork #1: Rhodium, huh? Mine's osmium. Why wouldn't you pick chromium or cobalt?
Dork #2: I'm not sure. I just like rhodium.

--Madison Square Park

via Overheard in New York, Sep 23, 2006

I'll have to think about this one. It's so hard to pin down a favorite. My gut feeling is good old-fashioned hydrogen, but it's too early in the morning for me to commit to my choice without further consideration. Or is it just too early in the morning for further consideration??? (Now who's the geek, Fishmonger?)

Having just dealt with another episode of whining, crying and tattling by Grover and Ollie, I think to myself "Why can't they just settle things between them the way my brother and I did... with good-old fashioned physical violence."

I went grocery shopping this morning and as usual, I had amassed a number of coupons to defray the cost of said groceries. The clerk had no problem until she got to one that had no UPC code on it. She gave me a blank look and asked the clerk who was bagging my groceries what to do. The bagger looked at me and said "Oh, you cut off the bar code. We can't take that coupon." I raised my eyebrow at her as if to say "Are you telling me I am not intelligent enough to cut out a coupon?" but said nothing to that effect, only "Why not?". She answered that it's all automated and they're not allowed to override the system. So I asked the cashier to remove the five items to which the coupon applied from the total. She started to do it and I said, "Wait... isn't that overriding the system? I thought you weren't allowed to do that." The clerk, clearly confused, looked at the bagger for direction. Bag Lady sighed and gave her instructions to manually enter the coupon. Chalk one up for the technology-challenged consumer (who, incidentally, used to be a cashier long before bar codes were actually used for anything and - gasp - we had to key in everything).

Sadly, Bag Lady was right on one count. I knew that I had just clipped that coupon this morning so when I got home, I looked through the circular which was still sitting on my kitchen table. I found the page that had contained the coupon in question and lo and behold, there was the bar code. So apparently, I am NOT intelligent enough to cut out a coupon. Sigh...