# The hamster wheel, because we no longer have hamsters.
# Three dead-and-therefore-unused-and-unusable toothbrushes.
# An empty deodorant stick.
# An empty handsoap refill bottle.
# Plastic aquarium tubing.
# The wrapper and instructions from a hamper.
# A mostly-empty box of Olay facial things that make me break out.
### Put away
# Five scifi novels that Matthew left on the shelf.
# Two hairbrushes, two combs, four toothbrushes, two flossing sticks, and two tubes of toothpaste.
Final score: 26.
Again with the shotgun, and again with the ow, ow, ow!
This time sucked mostly because I was using slugs, and again, it wasn’t quite seated right (now I’m too far into my center of body mass) but it is a very, very satisfying feeling to send two slugs downrange and be the loudest firearm on the range (at that given moment in time).
Also, grown men strolling along behind the firing line tend to pause and look twice when I pick up the shotgun.
I had to stop at two, though, as I knew I already had a bruise forming. I’ll try again next week. Blarg.
I did okay with the Springfield XD standard and sub-compact. Last week, I am very ashamed to admit that I did not hit my target _at all_ and instead laid out a nice pattern in the cardboard beneath it. It was at something like 30′.
This week, however, I started out at 9′ and did decently, and then went to 12′ and buckled down and picked up the shotgun (which last week was just a thing I did not really want to fire at all) and well, it was almost fun.
* 52 Crayola® colored pencils.
* My old wedding ring (size 5, as opposed to the one I’ve been wearing since I lost the old one, size 4.5).
* A picture from Annie and Nathan’s wedding.
* A picture of my mother, my grandmother, my daughter, and I.
* A batch of custom-printed Christmas cards from 2003.
* Christmas ornaments from the same.
* A dozen completely disintegrated highlighters from 1997.
* An action figure from _The Mummy_.
* A credit card offer from 2001.
* A calligraphy pen that a small person decided would make great dots on their art pad.
* A Sears card bill from 1998.
_Please note before freaking out: I am not pregnant._
I called out potential baby names as the kids and Matthew worked on tidying up their mess. “What about Victor? Or Heather, oh, wait, the cat is Heather.” (No offense intended, Heathers.)
“What would you like a little sister or brother to be named?”, asked Matthew.
“Princess or Volcano!”, piped up Rebecca.
Doomed. We are all doomed.
* All of the missing mittens. All of them!
* My favorite pair of socks.
* Three t-shirts which were more hole than not.
* Five pieces of the old laundry hamper which were serving double-duty as annoying musical instruments and fishing rods.
### Left for later
* Laundering all of the girls size 4-5 clothing and sorting through it for wear and tear.
* Folding and putting away the adult clothes.
* Cast off on the final side of Matthew’s black and yellow machine-knit scarf.
Marcus is currently going through his box of circuit boards, decluttering them. “Well,” he says, “this looks useless. Yep, time to throw it away. Let’s see, this one has a motor, I’ll keep it.”
A package arrived today and I handed it off to Marcus on my way to the kitchen to wash dishes. I was up to my elbows in suds when he stomped into the kitchen, glaring at me. “Mom, I do not _want_ to learn [amazon asin=”0440445450″]how to eat fried worms[/amazon]!”