After using the word 'levels' about fifteen times in the last half an hour, I'm dubbing it my Word of the Day, which isn't something that is consistent, and happens randomly (that was redundant), and sometimes the Word of the Day can go into Word of the Month, which would make it qualified for Word of the Year, which means it gets added to my List of Really Cool Words.
That list includes words like defenestrate, redundant, repetitive, and asshat. I have them written down somewhere in a notebook that I think might have made a home in my school bag, but I'm in fact much too lazy to actually GET UP off of this slightly comfortable couch in order to search for my bag that is UPSTAIRS.
But if you're really curious, it involves other words like asshat, defenestrate, redundant, and repetetive.
The main topic of this blog, BEDA 5, is to talk about Luck Levls. Or Bad Luck Levels, depending on your optimism level. This idea spawned about half an hour or so ago because my mom is "spring cleaning" as she calls it.
What really happened was that my mom decided that our house needed to be Windex-ed to death, which I'll admit, is sometimes fun. Windex and Lysol are my favorite cleaning products. However, that does not mean I use them often. Do not intermix FAVORITE with USAGE LEVELS.
Also, she vacuumed it, with the help of my little sister (1.5 years old) who she has somehow brianwashed into enjoying cleaning. It's very strange. I blame the fact that my mom was young when she had me and, thus, didn't herself enjoy cleaning then, so it would be illogical to assume that I would like cleaning. Which I don't, generally, unless I'm really bored and my books don't want to be read. (Note: This is extremely RARE.)
While my mom was vacuuming, she hit the wine wrack. (OH. MY. GOD.) and one of the wine glasses (also, I keep wanting to put WIN GLASSES, which is funny, but not what I'm meaning to put) FELL OFF of the wrack. And broke.
No big deal, right? I didn't think so.
I had to go make sure my sister didn't go step in it, while she sat on top of me saying, "Broke. Uh-oh. Broke. Broookkeee!" because she's only a year and a half old, and intelligent.
My mom cleaned it up while saying, "You know, Ashley, you could dust," but I told her that I was distracted in keeping up with the blogs of other BEDA-doers, which isn't even a lie! It was/is what I was/am doing. Also, blogs > dust.
Then she went to go do something. I wasn't paying too much attention to whatever that was, but my sister decided it was time for her to vacuum again, and she wanted to do it next to the shelf that, coincidentally, was right next to the wine wrack. That corner/wall was not a LUCKY PLACE TO BE.
So she pulled the vacuum along, and tried to turn next to it, but hit the shelf. And apparently the nifty lamp we have doesn't like to be disturbed, because it leaped off of the shelf and it's glass shade thing broke! Broke! It really was a nice lamp, too, but my mom said that we just need a new shade, which cheers me up.
I heard the crash and walked over while my sister was pointing to it going, "Uh-oh. Broken. Uh-oh. Osh, broke," because she calls me Osh and I could clearly fix the problem.
So I cleaned that up, accidentally kneeling in some broken glass that I didn't know was there. It's okay, I'm indestructible, and didn't even feel it. Although it could just be my kick ass pajama pants. Except my mom didn't feel that I did a sufficient job (probably because I missed the little bits of glass that I was kneeling on...) and so she finished it.
My sister likes to randomly disappear when we're not looking. Particularly, she likes to run to hide in closets, which is awkward and funny and we really have no idea why. She'll leave the room, and we'll search everywhere for her. And where will she be? In the closet. It's slightly ridiculous and gets mad at us when we try to coax her out.
But anyway, while my mom was cleaning the rest of the glass, and I was blog-reading, my sister went to sit in the closet. It's very, very strange. She goes to sit in mine sometimes, which is weird and inconvenient, especially because I call my closet the Bad Karma Closet, so whenever it's left open I have a gloomy day. And one and a half year olds aren't good at remembering to close doors. (However, because she's been trained well, she turns off the TV before leaving the room, and occasionally the lights. Just not to shut closet doors once she's done using them.)
My mom asked, "Ashley, where's your sister?"
She rolled her eyes. "Is she in the closet?"
"Probably." I was very tuned in to the blogs I was reading, hence the excitement in this conversation. I could try to make it more interesting.
"Could you get her for me?" Grudgingly, I nodded, set the laptop aside, and went to fetch my sister. Except when I tried looking at her, she went, "Oshh, no! Nooooo!"
Also, I swear, she discovered closets on her own. We don't lock her in there, although sometimes I'd like to do that to my brother. Unfortunately, he's slowly getting taller than me, which I do not like, and could probably defenestrate me if I tried.
(The more interesting version of this story:
"Ashley!" my mom yelled as we stepped closer to the open door of the plane.
"What?" I shouted back, not bothering to look at her, mostly because I physically couldn't. My gaze was held by the ground, which was, in fact, a great distance away.
"Where's your sister!?" she asked over the sound of wind rushing past us due to the high velocity of the plane. I gripped the straps to my parachute tighter.
She rolled her eyes at me. "Is she in the closet? In that house? Way down there? That we're conveniently over?"
"Probably!" I answered, preparing myself for the jump of a life time.
"Could you get her for me?!"
I looked at her like she was out of her mind. Me? Jumping? OUT OF A PLANE? It seemed ridiculous, but I've always wanted to go sky diving, and that seemed like the opportune moment, particularly because I already had a parachute strapped to my back, and had somehow gained infinite knowledge on What To Do When Sky Diving.
The ending to this is the same as the dull version, except in this one, I'm trailing a parachute behind me.)
Back to luck. Glass broke. Lamp broke. Sister goes into closet and won't come out. Bad luck. Which has a higher luck lever? Wine glass or lamp shade? I think it's a lamp shade, but I also think that we all know nothing brings more bad luck than THE MIRROR.
Thankfully, the Luck Level was rather low, and lasted probably about seven minutes, instead of seven years, as now my sister is running around with her toothbrush and watching iCarly.
One more random note before Random Question Time: My mom JUST (ten seconds ago) almost broke ANOTHER glass when she tried to move the wrack over. And now my sister is shaking the whole thing. Annddd *facepalm* That is a wrack with very high Bad Luck Levels, apparently, but still not nearly as high as the mirror.
Do you have any strange phobias?
In fact, I have many strange phobias that range from Santa Claus to caterpillars. I'll explain both of those, because they are my biggest, I think, and I also don't like to think of all my phobias at once...
Santa, and yes, I completely understand that he DOES NOT EXIST, just developed recently (a couple years ago) because I realized there are many innuendos that could be made about Santa, and that he could, in fact, be perceived as a pervert. I prefer not to sit on an old-man-in-all-red's lap just to tell him what I want so that he can sneak into my house in the middle of the night and leave presents (or BRIBERY) under a tree. And he expects cookies in return.
I do not think so. Nope.
Caterpillars happened a year before Santa. I was walking to my friend's house, and FOLLOWING THE SIDEWALK. Now, tell me. When you see a sidewalk, don't you generally think it's, oh, I don't know, A SAFE PLACE FOR YOU TO WALK? As in, if you WALK ON THIS SIDEWALK, you will not get dive bombed by caterpillars?
I thought so, but, apparently, I'm a moron.
Tent caterpillars. Those were the little asshats. I didn't really give much thought to caterpillars before that summer. I didn't care about them, they were just there, and always minded their own business. This was BEFORE.
They hang from trees in case you didn't know. Yes, they hang in trees, and live in trees, in populations of HUNDREDS. Like I said, I was walking to my friends house and walked RIGHT THROUGH THE MIDDLE of hundreds of caterpillars HANGING FROM THE TREE. And I didn't notice until I was IN THE MIDDLE.
I made it to my friends house, freaking out, dancing and flicking those stupid things off of me. They were all over! I was extremely close to taking my pants off, right in the middle of the street. Jeez, just thinking about it now is freaking me out.
Also, that was the same incident where my glasses first broke because they flew off of my face during the caterpillar dance.
So those are a couple of my phobias, and so far what my day has been about. I just now realized that, in two blogs, I've talked about weather and cleaning, which makes me feel kind of lame. Maybe I will go sky diving, because that's got to be more interesting than OMG BREAKING GLASS!