Three

That’s the number of attempts it takes me to accomplish just about anything. For instance: This morning I needed to get the power cord for my laptop out of the office upstairs so that I could work at the kitchen table while the boys played in the creatively named “playroom.”

As I headed up the stairs I noticed a dirty onsie by the changing table, which reminded me that I had forgotten to switch the laundry over in the basement. I took the dirty onsie downstairs, started the next load of laundry and headed upstairs to fold the stuff from the dryer. I got to the top of the stairs and realized that the stuff I needed to fold was sitting on top of the dryer...where I'd left it. Oh hell! Down  I went again to get the dry clothes, which I always fold in the living room.

I don’t like the basement. It’s not finished and I am afraid of spiders – that’s a story for another post – anyway…I finished folding the laundry and remembered that I still needed my power cord so I headed up the stairs again. I have no flipping idea what I did while I was up there but I definitely did not get the power cord. 

When I got back to the kitchen I opened my computer only to discover that it was dead.

I needed the power cord. 

Three tries and load of laundry later, I have my power cord and I am writing. 

I can’t even blame the kids, they were playing all by themselves and being the wonderful, amazing, perfect little cherubs that they are.

Now if I could only remember what I was going to work on!