My grey roots are over an inch long, people.  But did I get an appointment with Annette?  No, we sent Rabbit to Annette yesterday instead–and she came home with a ridiculously adorable shorter haircut (just below her chin) and has been marveling at her tangle-free hair all day today.

I did get to see Annette, though.  Her parents are house-hunting, and she’s helping in the process.  Today at one house, Annette’s mother was walking down the basement stairs and looked up at the new light fixture on the ceiling overhead.  She turned to us and said “This light looks like a boob.”

Made.  My.  Day.

After I got home, PC and Rabbit and I had dinner.  While Rabbit was downstairs puttering around and PC drove to Blockbuster for a movie, I attempted to make Rice Krispy treats. 

The marshmallows were a recent purchase.  The bag of generic rice krispies cereal?  Expired in May 2009.  I went exploring downstairs for a substitute and found a bag of honey nut cheerios.  I brought them upstairs and put butter in a pan to melt. I added the marshmallows and began stirring, and of course, it was right then that the phone rang.

If you know my husband, you will know that it was him on the phone.  He almost never gets to a store or out on an errand without the sudden and overwhelming compulsion to call me and update me on developments.  “There’s butter on sale,” he might say.  Or “Do we need any detergent?” while at the store for an emergency package of sugar.  Since he was at Blockbuster, tonight’s cellphone summit was to inform me that they didn’t have the movie we wanted but were holding a copy for him at a different branch.

Meanwhile, the marshmallows were starting to turn tan.  I hung up and quickly grabbed the bag of cheerios.  The “EZ Open” zipper top on the bag would not tear off, even though it was perforated.  I tried twice and was left with yellow shreds of plastic. I grabbed a steak knife and sawed through the top of the bag, and poured the cereal into the pan.  I added some cocoa puffs as well, with the “in for a penny, in for a pound” philosophy that has served me so well in the past.

Then the fun of trying to get the cereal/marshmallow mixture out of the pot and into the cake pan began.  There was cereal everywhere, stuck to my sleeve, the counter, the edges of the pot, and trailing streamers of melted marshmallow goo behind.  I laid down the wooden spoon and grabbed a spatula, and scraped most of the stuff out of the pot.

I tried to press it down in the cake pan with the spatula, but it just dislodged chunks of cereal and created more marshmallow streamers.  Finally, I washed my hands, buttered them, and pressed the cereal down with my fingers. 

After the treats were set aside to cool, I started cleaning up.  The wooden spoon was glued fast to the counter, and I pulled on it so hard that it finally came loose and I hit myself in the face.  There’s marshmallow goop all over, and sticky cereal shrapnel on the floor. 

The only two things salvaging this day are the fact that we get to eat the treats later, and that my hairdresser’s mother said the word “boob” today.

Some days, that’s enough.