Not Me Monday

Since I work every weekend at the hospital I miss going to mass.  I do however receive communion from the traveling communion lady (a good Catholic would know the proper name for these people) each and every Sunday in the ICU.  I also fail to make it to confession on a regular basis so I'm hoping this will suffice for my way past due reconciliation.  GOD, if you happen to read this, please become a follower.  I really would like some input from time to time.  Here's a look at my latest week

This week a stray puppy didn't find us and I didn't let it in the house and I didn't tell the boys to name it.  I also didn't secretly hope Scott would fall in love with him and I most certainly wasn't a little disappointed when his owner came looking for him later that night.

This week I didn't find a pregnancy test while cleaning the van (I also don't have a van dirty enough to have a pregnancy test hidden in it) and run in the bathroom to use it.  That would be silly!  For all my family out there praying it was negative, you win, it was (I promise, the vasectomy will be soon, right after I finish my 2009 taxes and get Finn's speech screened)

This week I didn't ignore the low fuel light in my van knowing that Scott would be the next one to drive it and would have to fill it up.  That would be mean. 

This week it wasn't me who fed a stray cat and tried to tempt it up onto my front porch every night knowing that Scott doesn't want any more cats.  I wouldn't do that, but in the event that he figured out, all on his own how to use the cat door?  That wouldn't be my fault.

It wasn't me who fasted for two days before seeing my nutritionist.  That would be pointless, I've been eating all the right foods and definitely didn't find a new favorite cookie at Publix the other night.  What kind of person would go to a nutritionist for six months only to gain two pounds?  Someone with no self control, that's who.  I also didn't celebrate when she changed my goal from losing two pounds this week to not gaining any weight this week.  I would never premake excuses for why I probably was going to have a bad week.  I would never tell her I was being audited by the IRS and I would be really stressed.  That would most certainly bring bad karma. 

This week it wasn't  my husband who admitted that he loves watching I-Carly.  That would be childlike.  I would never marry a child.  I already have enough of them.

While in the ICU during rounds this week in front of several doctors and a cardiothoracic surgeon I didn't fall out of my rolling office chair behind the desk.  I'm not a klutz.  However, for those of you who may have done this at any point, I think it's ridiculous that any chair manufacturer would have a "dump" lever located very near the height adjuster. 

I didn't stop at our new favorite Mexican restaurant and pick up chips and salsa to surprise Scott with a late night dinner date snack and then eat them all before I got home.   Hypothetically if this did happen, I would never carefully hide all the evidence in the garage before going inside.

I would never leave a skink trapped in the game closet because I was too tired and lazy to get it out of the house.  If there ever was a skink in my game closet, it wouldn't be there because a certain orange cat brought it in through the cat door.  My cat would never do that (twice).  He is far too sophisticated to associate with skinks.  A blog about this second round with the skimk won't be showing up on this blog anytime soon!

It wasn't me who waited until this weekend to finish my 2009 taxes.  That would be irresponsible.  I would never procrastinate like that.  Speaking of procrastinating, I also wasn't the library patron who checked out an audio book last month from the library called "Stop Procrastinating and Start Living".  I would never check out a book like that and never listen to it and owe three dollars in late fees on it and still do nothing about it. 

I need to go now because it's late and I don't still have two little boys who should have been asleep hours ago in their own beds.

Nope, not me!