Do I have an awesome husband, or what?

I still can’t look at the computer screen (or any kind of print) without causing a whole heck of a lot of pain, so I’m typing with my eyes closed. But really, my eye hurts much less than it did yesterday, and much much much infinitely much less than it did right after the scratch happened. Yay.

Interestingly, we found a little list of “common ways of getting a corneal abrasion” (or something like that), and my very own way was on the list. You want to guess?

The list went something like:

1. Doing metalwork without eye protection;

2. Something about dust, I don’t quite remember;

3. Accidentally being poked in the eye by a small child.

Go on, guess.

What does one do when one’s wife has a scratched cornea and she is supposed to avoid reading and writing and generally using her eyes? I, Dane, will tell you, since Melissa scratched her cornea last night and I now have now lived the dream (ahem, nightmare).

This morning we drove the 4 kids 30 miles to stand in line 40 minutes with 370 of our closest strangers at Ikea, for the joy of saving about $15 on an easel. Yes, that was the line to get into the store and get the easel, though most people had the sense to buy two so the situation wasn’t totally humiliating. (I mean, if you buy two, then you’re saving $30, and that makes it worth it, right?) I discovered there’s something perverse about standing in line outside the store waiting to get past the cash registers so you can enter the warehouse. You get to watch all the other shoppers coming the other, natural direction, from inside the warehouse, past the registers, and out the store. It’s a lot of pressure and, oddly, it really made me do some soul-searching. Audrey was the first to crack.

But once our annual supply of easel was safely in hand (how can we go through easels at such a rate?), we subjected the kids to additional Ikea shopping — for dishes. That was why we had really come all that way, on a Saturday morning, on the busiest shopping weekend of the year,  so we could take our kids shopping for dishes. You’re welcome, kids!

After the brilliant ride home, during which we stuffed Audrey inappropriately full of fruit leather to prevent further howls of protest, it was quiet time. For two and a half hours. And what did we do after quiet time? More shopping. Followed by kids tidying up while Dad makes dinner, a bland meal, bath time, and pajamas. That was it. The whole day.

So what does Owen have to say when, for a special treat (read: because we felt not a little guilty over the lameness of the day), we serve the tiniest scoops of ice cream just before bed? In his most serious five-year-old voice: “In our family, we never skip having fun.” Right. Just what I was thinking, buddy.

And that’s what one does when one’s wife has a scratched cornea. Oh, that and write a blog post for one’s wife so she doesn’t miss her daily NaBloWatchaMa blog post because November isn’t quite over yet, and let her friends know that she probably won’t be answering email until sitting at the computer doesn’t blind her.

Ooh, look what I won! Or actually, look here. How crazy awesome exciting is that?!

Merry Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night.

Wait, wrong holiday.

But still: May your day be filled with blessings great and small. And may you get some sleep at the end of the day.

Do you ever look around your house and wonder: Why is no one in my family a compulsive cleaner? I mean, come on. Would that be such a bad neurosis to have? Really?

We have rain! It’s raining! With thunderstorms forecasted, but I’ll believe it when I see it. (Or hear it. I’m okay with auditory confirmation.)

Hooray! I have a new column up at mamazine.com today!

If you’ve been sitting around wondering when-slash-whether we’re having another baby, or if you’ve been wondering whether I’m at all busy and tired, or if you’re curious as to what we eat for breakfast: all will be revealed! Or more accurately, some things will be revealed and others will be left ambiguous. (Spoiler: I’m not pregnant.)

I’m actually always a little bit terrified that you’ll read my stuff and then decide you no longer like me as a human being, and my social circle will dwindle to nothing, both online and in real life.

But surely not, right? At least, everybody won’t disappear all at once… right? Hello?

I fell asleep putting Sadie to bed.

Then I fell asleep putting Audrey to bed.

Now I’m thinking it’s just time to go to bed.

(In other words: Not quite done with the whole being-sick-thing. But I’m sure it will be vanquished… soon! And then when there’s less sinus pressure in my head, maybe I’ll be able to form coherent thoughts once again. Here’s hoping.)

Is it still November? [checks calendar…] Why yes, yes it is. We haven’t had that whole Thanksgiving (in the U.S.) thing yet, so I guess it must still be.

I have a teensy little head cold, so I’m spending the night sitting quietly on the couch eating chocolate chip ice cream. And yes, ice cream may be pretty much the single worst thing to feed a cold, what with the mucous-causing dairy and the germ-feeding sugar—I know, I know—but I don’t have any cake or even pie handy, so ice cream will have to do. (Remember, holding baby all the time! Must get enough calorie intake somehow!)

Luckily I remembered to take vitamin C and garlic and grapefruit seed extract and other germ-killing goodies all day today—usually I forget completely—so maybe it’ll clear out real quick-like. I’d appreciate that.

Alright, enough of me yammering already. Back to your regularly-scheduled Saturday evening. (Or Tuesday morning. Or whenever else you’re reading this.)

Because I am always looking for new and better ways to avoid doing anything remotely productive, I thought I would sew up slipcovers for a couple of moleskine notebooks.

Not only are they not sock monkeys, but they’re actually Dane’s notebooks. He politely suggested that the pink one was maybe not especially masculine. Thus did I make the other one, which still doesn’t scream “MAN!” but is rather less pink.

I’m sure he appreciates me.