Or 7:00.
Hard to say, really. The time change always screws me up and makes me feel like I'm stuck in the Matrix, so I'm not really sure. What I AM sure of is that at some point today I am probably going to go on a crusade to locate all of the (working) AA batteries in the house, so that I can put them in the 3 or 4 clocks that haven't worked in 3 months. Because I can only imagine that Time Change Day is a lot like Easter for all of our clocks. They get dressed up in new batteries, and take a lot of pride in showing the CORRECT time. ("See that? 3:15. Top THAT, bitches.")
Easter for clocks. . . .Which, if I follow that line of thought to its conclusion, I am forced to realize that the 3 or 4 of our clocks that need new batteries, the clocks that have NOT told the correct time in *quite* a while, are probably severely depressed. And possibly quite insane. (I imagine that having your second hand tick once every 8 or 9 seconds is as close as you can possibly come to TORTURE for a clock.)
I mean, telling time is kind of what they DO. It's their PURPOSE in life. And ours have been wrong (VERY wrong) for quite a while.
Hm.
Sad little clocks, screaming out for batteries, wondering what's the use in ticking.
Crap.
Really wish I hadn't thought of that. Because now that I have, I no longer have a choice in the matter. I MUST give them all fresh batteries now. Because now I have given them human qualities (which was stupid of me. Very, VERY stupid.) and if I do NOT replace their batteries, then I am essentially making them suffer for my own twisted amusements.
I really don't care for situations where my overactive imagination pretty much INSISTS upon a course of action for me. It's just that I don't care for having my hand forced on these matters.
I have done this for pretty much all of my life. And it is very irritating. . . . like when I was a kid, and I was pretty sure my stuffed animals came to life when I went to sleep every night. And then I realized that maybe the ones that I didn't sleep with, the ones that were left on the shelf at night, got jealous. Like, REALLY jealous.
Like, "If I can't be her cuddle-friend, then NO ONE CAN."
They were MY stuffed animals. Which meant that I was THEIR WORLD. When you add several more stuffed animals over a period of time (allowing for gift-giving occasions like birthdays and Christmas, etc.), I think it only logical that petty jealousies would erupt. And that a small percentage of said animals would be have attachment issues, paired with a lack of experience with dealing with these complex emotions, and that a smaller faction would (naturally) be criminally insane.
And so I usually slept with a great many stuffed animals in bed with me, ever fearful that one day they would realize that I did this NOT out of a desire for closeness, but out of fear of retaliation. (I was pretty confident that at LEAST a few were substantially unhinged.)
But. Depressed time-keepers and psychotic playthings hell-bent on destruction ASIDE. . . it really is shaping up to be a lovely Sunday. =)
And today is kind of a monumental day, in my teeny little nook of existence.
You see, TODAY is the day of DEVIN'S FIRST SOCCER GAME!!!!!
(Enough exclamation points? Cause I can add some more, no problem. Let me ask: Are you really FEELING that I am excited? Am I making you BELIEVE it?)
Because I AM excited. Or rather, I was. . . until I got to thinking about all the things that I know about soccer.
It is, admittedly, not a lot. And most of it was gleaned from years of paying very close attention to television programs.
What I KNOW About Soccer:
1.) It is VERY big in other countries.
2.) In at least ONE of these "other countries" it is referred to as "football".
3.) . . .Does David Beckham play soccer? Is that why we know him?
4.) Apparently goals are almost never made, and it is mostly just an excuse for the players to get lots of exercise as they run from one end of the field to the other.
5.) They wear sassy little knee socks.*
6.) (*I THINK they wear sassy little knee socks. . . but I have confused sports apparel before.)
7.) The moms that go to watch these games are evil and mean and very judgemental, and they will most likely find a way to mock what I am wearing, and we are probably not going to be friends. (Source: That King of the Hill episode where Peggy went to watch Bobby's soccer game, and all the other mommies made fun of/shunned her because she wasn't wearing the 'right' kind of sweater. Also, the fact that these mommies are mean is, if TELEVISION is to be believed (and I think we can ALL agree: It IS.), just kind of common knowledge.)
So, as you can well see, this list is just RIFE with positives AND negatives. And I'm the kind of person that generally INSISTS on my positives outweighing my negatives. Otherwise, I just stay home. (I'm looking at YOU, Lowe's and Publix.)
But for TODAY'S game, there are a few more tiny facts that you need, in order to see why I am not only GOING, but am rather excited about it.
Well, TWO facts, really. Just two:
1.) This is going to be soccer played by 6 year olds.
2.) According to Devin, they have never had a practice.
Yes, you read that last one right: NEVER had a practice.
This came to light as we were driving home from his school on Friday afternoon.
Me: "So are you excited about your soccer game on Sunday?"
Devin: "Yep."
Me: "What position do you play?"
Devin: ". . .what?"
Me: "What position do you play? What's your job?"
Devin: *blank stare*
Me: (like I am talking to a houseplant) "WHAT DID YOUR COACH TELL YOU TO DO?"
Devin: "Oh. I don't know my coach yet."
Me: ". . .you don't know your coach yet? What about the other kids on your team? Do you know THEM yet?"
Devin: "Nope. I've never met them."
Me: "What about practice? Have you NEVER BEEN TO A PRACTICE?"
Devin: "Nope."
Me: *my turn for a blank stare* "Then. . . how do you know what you're supposed to do?"
Devin: (like HE is talking to a houseplant) "I've PLAYED soccer before. You kick the ball."
Me: "Oh. . . .wait. WHERE have you played?"
Devin: "At my house."
And scene.
So, if I have gotten my point across, then you can clearly see that what we're dealing with here is a sports game wherein at LEAST one of the children involved has NEVER been to a practice, and has NEVER even met his teammates.
Also, they do not have jerseys yet, and so I am anticipating some moments of pure comedy gold, demonstrated by the fact that the kids have completely forgotten who is on their team, and who ISN'T.
Wait. . . do mean mommies take kids' soccer very seriously?
Because *I* know a little boy that is probably going to run out on the field, meet his team, and then attempt to take the ball and become a star. In his own mind, of course. Because he has NO IDEA what he is doing.
You gotta love confidence like that. =)
He's pumped.
I'm pumped.
I'm off to try to locate a smart-looking sweater set.
Ta!***
***In MY head, fancy soccer mommies say things like "Ta!" And they probably don't arrive to the games over-caffeinated. And I imagine that they probably smell very nice. But DO THEY BRING SNACKS?
Seriously ---- do they?
Because I could make certain attempts to befriend mean mommies. . . IF they're packing.
SNACK-PACKING!!!
Woo!
See what I did there? =)
Making it look easy.
EAT IT, mean mommies!!
=p
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