We -- Kay and I -- are showing the house today at 11:45 to someone who rescheduled after not showing yesterday at 9:30. Showing the house means that we vacate the house and drive around for awhile. I'm still relaxed. We have plenty of time.
I'm not quite sure whether Karen fed Kay before leaving or that I had fed her enough after Karen left. So I'm fixing another bottle to make sure I can top her off so she might possibily sleep so I can straighten the house before taking her cruising in the car.
This is the vibrating chair, Not the swing.
The cover to the swing is in the laundry.
Kay likes the vibrating chair too but it always
vibrates her to the bottom.
Fixing the bottle, I suddenly hear a sound that I have heard before. I heard it a few weeks ago when I accidentally spilled half of a gallon of white paint onto the garage floor -- right after Karen had warned me to watch out for any drips from the brush and to clean them up right away.
Was Kay painting?
I looked over and for a moment I was convinced that she had been. White liquid covered her, her clothes, the chair and a part of the Persian rug.
I guess Karen had fed her before leaving after all.
I'm no longer relaxed. We no longer have plenty of time. Oddly, Kay is smiling.
I switch into hyper-mode: pick her up, rub whatever baby spit was left all over my clean shirt, undress both of us, throw on clean clothes, throw everything else in laundry...hyperventilate...put her in the car seat, throw in the carrying bag of diapers and the bottle which I don't know if she will need -- is she now empty?
And just before the realtor pulls up to show our house, I run back in and grab a roll of paper towels.
You never know.