I had just the greatest idea for a post, but then I had to do some stuff, and after I did all that stuff, I decided that I should take a shower, and then it sounded to me like a scary thunderstorm was building up inside the shower head, and that has never happened before, well, I mean, it’s never happened to ME before anyhow, although it might have happened to my husband, but I wouldn’t know if it had or hadn’t because he hasn’t been sharing much with me verbally, and by that I mean he hasn’t really been talking to me at all since the whole “baby incident” (which I realize that in this context sounds like I am implying that there was some sort of incident with our baby or with someone else’s baby or maybe that I am referring to a news story about a baby trapped in a well or a baby who acquired superhuman strength and lifted a bus off of his mom or something, some kind of story that particularly affected him in some way, rendering him less communicative, like some kind of third-degree form of PTSD, and I apologize, because I don’t mean to imply that at all, because what I meant by the “baby incident” was just that we had a baby, but since I ended up explaining all that anyway, now I am thinking I should have just written “since we had a baby” in the first place, because that would have saved me from realizing that I misspelled the word “acquired,” I mean, you wouldn’t have known it if I hadn’t just outed myself, because there was a red line under it, and I thought, “Well, that’s silly. That’s not how that’s spelled,” and I quickly added a “c,” but I really originally typed “aquired” without even thinking, because my lazy brain sounded it out, and it seemed like a “q” would be enough to make a “k” sound, the “cq” seemed like overkill, although I guess if you were to separate the syllables, the first one would be making an “ak” and the second one would be making a “kwiored,” but still, that kind of thing is not something I think I would have done before the baby incident, or even since I had the baby, but maybe I would have because I haven’t been reading much lately, I mean, I am almost done with Tina Fey’s book, but I don’t think that counts, because she makes me laugh, and there are funny pictures and there is really big print, you know, the kind that editors probably suggest the publisher switch to when someone is supposed to deliver a book, and he/she only turns in 115 pages after working on it for almost a year, well, I mean, after saying that he or she or the robot worked on it for a year anyhow, but then only putting about two weeks into it if you added up all the hours it was writing and subtracted all the ice cream and bathroom breaks it took, and I don’t mean a break where you eat ice cream in the bathroom, but two separate breaks, although I guess if you were either really pressed for time or had a very traumatic bathroom experience, you might want to combine the two into one swift gesture, well, less like a gesture and more like an incident, but not in the way that the baby incident was a pretty solid “incident,” but–oooooouch, the baby from the aforementioned incident just bit my boob, and then he farted, but not just farted, LIFTED HIS LEG AND FARTED LIKE A GULL-DARNED ANIMAL (!!!), which reminds me that I really need to stop using such shitty language around my son, I mean, he can’t really understand language or even the idea of language, although maybe he’s starting to, because I did show him a “ball” yesterday, I mean, actually I guess I misused those quotation marks–thanks, Bossypants!–it was actually a ball, it wasn’t like a shoe or something that I held up in front of him while I said “ball” a bunch of times, because, well, that would be tricking my son, which, don’t get me wrong, I’ve thought about doing, but only in an abstract way, the same way I think about dressing him up like a bumblebee or a fat bear, but this time the ball that I held up was a real ball, and I held it up and said, “BALL, BALL, BALL,” and he looked at me like he didn’t like what I was getting at, and, anyway, according to the New York Times Magazine, if I was using bad language around him, he might understand that it was language, but he wouldn’t really know that it was “bad,” because he doesn’t really know right from wrong or good from bad, which is why I forgive him for biting my boob and lifting his leg to fart, although, don’t get me wrong, I am still plotting my revenge!!– no one that I know has done that, which means it never happened), and I guess the noise, which my husband may or may not have also experienced, really threw me off my game, because when I tried to remember what it was that I was going to write for my post, I had to think about it really hard, and nothing at all came to me, except the thought that maybe it had something to do with the bathroom, so I started brainstorming and thought about all the random things that make me crazy, which is where I usually start getting ideas for these posts (famous people, classic movies being remade, bananagrams, etc.), so I started going over all the things that make me crazy, like “facebook” and my husband telling me that Daddy Longlegs are arachnids but not “spiders” every time I point at a Daddy Long Legs on our bathroom floor and yell “SPIIIIIIIIIIIIIDER!!!” and make him smash it like the dirty spider it is, but neither one of those things seemed like things that other people would have feelings about, partially because they might not exist outside of my head, but mainly because they both start with the letter “f,” and neither one of them had anything to do with a bathroom, except the part with the spider on the bathroom floor (but that really seemed like I was forcing a connection), so I cleared my head and used the principles of “The Secret” (the movie, not the book) to awaken my mind to the manifestation of the original genius idea for my post, because I was pretty sure that it was the best idea that I’ve ever had.