Monday, November 17, 2014

The Case of the Missing Humidifer

Let's just admit right off that bat that this is clearly the most boring subject matter in the history of blogging.  

But, since I spent nearly an hour on it tonight, 
I feel like it deserves its own post of victory. 
(Especially since Adam is too busy to comment on my text of victory. 
And I need my victories validated!)

And so I give to you: 


:: dun dun dun ::

Somewhere in the ridiculous list of baby registry stuff, 
I was smart enough to add a humidifer. 

Ironically, this humidifier was most used when I was pregnant to combat some sort of dry-nose congestion thing I had going on.  
I barely remember what it was, except it was awful.  
Or maybe the entire 9th month was awful. 
I don't remember.

 We've used this humidifer a grand total of once or twice with Aaron, 
mostly during the Winter Sickness of January 2014 
(aka: Introduction to Daycare), 
where the poor kid ended up on 2 different types of antibiotics. 

Last weekend, Aaron had a nasty cough so aside from the usual assortment of not-effective treatments 
(nasal spray, Baby Vick's on the feet with socks, propped up bed, etc) 
we bought a gallon of distilled water for the humidifer. 

But where was the FREAKING HUMIDIFIER? 

We casually looked, gave up, and went on with our weekend lives. 
(Beer and netflix, of course)

Not tonight. 
Tonight, I was going to find it. 
 Nothing would stop me. 
:: dun dun dun ::

Let's also pause this riveting story for me to state that we do NOT have a big house. 
We live in a very small 3-bedroom townhouse, with a partially finished basement. 
Somehow though, 30+ years ago, 
the builders were smart enough to gift us with ~8 closets. 
(There must have been a woman on that design team.) 

I looked everywhere. 
Venturing into the pitfalls of our junk-storage-areas in our basement. 
I even attempted the Stupidest Feat in Parenthood
and took a flashlight to Aaron's closet while he was sleeping. 
I'm not sure how I got away with that, 
other than God showed mercy on a stupid parent. 

I started double-checking the closets I already checked. 

(baited breath, right?) 
it was there. 

Buried underneath the no-longer-needed baby tub, 
which was buried under the mountain of rags our cleaning lady uses. 

 As I mentioned above, I immediately texted Adam my victory. 
Complete with CAPS LOCKS to really express how important this was. 
35 minutes later and he has yet to respond. 

I'm not sure how he thinks that some multi-national merger / acquisition / [whatever] contract is more important than my humidifer search victory. 
Priorities, man. 

End of story. 
Also, I'm sitting here trying to think if there has been ANYTHING at all interesting about our night that I can add to this as a redeeming factor. 
Not really. 
It rained. 
We watched 30 minutes of Thomas. 
We played in the playroom in the basement. 
We ate dinner. 
We read books. 
We took a bath. 
We went to bed. 
And I searched the house for an hour for this humidifer. 

1 comment:

  1. I sure hope your husband has responded by now because that's a big time victory in my book. He's probably just jealous that he isn't the one that found it.