Since Monday, I have sanded the spackled parts of the bathroom. They are smooth and ready for primer.

I have also . . . nope, that’s it. That’s all.

Both bathrooms are still all taped off. I have moved the step ladder in and out of the boys’ bathroom about four hundred times. This morning I put the spackle and sand paper away under the sink because Henry was sanding the tile and Charlie was trying to use the spackle as hair product.

I have not so much as opened the can of primer, although I finally moved it out of the kitchen this morning after the tenth time I kicked it.

In theory this should be incredibly frustrating, this complete inability to PAINT THE WALLS, but really I’ve been too busy doing other things, like chasing down the guy from the dry cleaners as he was pulling out of my driveway because we forgot to put the cleaning out AGAIN this week and if Wade’s shirts don’t get laundered . . . well, something VERY BAD will happen. I don’t want to find out what that might be.

I have also been very busy calling painters and calling people to get recommendations for painters because the painters I have called are not calling me back. Oh, and yesterday I had to call the bank and have my debit card cancelled.

You know, those sort of things. Pretty much what you’ve all been doing this week, right?

What? You didn’t have to cancel your debit card? The one you use EVERY DAY, for groceries and coffee and gas and everything else that requires an exchange of money? Oh. Well.

Yesterday in the mail I got a letter from my bank saying that my debit card (not Wade’s! just mine!) was one of some larger group of debit cards whose numbers had possibly been “compromised.” As a result, the bank was suggesting that I cancel the card, which made total sense to me. Also, I was assuming that they would IMMEDIATELY get me a NEW card, because I need that sucker. Real money is against my religion. So are socks. And hairpray. And mayonnaise.

Anyway–I’m a smart internet consumer and I know all about phishing schemes, so instead of calling the number on the letter, I dug out my last bank statement and called the number on the statement. Which turned out to be the same number as the one on the letter, of course, because this really WAS a letter from my bank and I really DID have to cancel the damn card. The very nice customer service rep explained that at some point between May of 2006 and last week, I had used my card at either a Marshalls or a TJ MAXX store, and somehow my number had maybe been “leaked” and even though my account wasn’t showing any unusual activity, which I already knew because I (mostly) keep a careful eye on our checking account (although how much would I have LOVED to be able to blame our fiscal irresponsibility on the TJ MAXX corporation???) the card should be cancelled.

And I said, “Really? Marshalls? You know there’s not a Marshalls in Oklahoma City. And I don’t ever shop at TJ MAXX because it’s in Edmond and that’s too far to drive, even for discounted jeans.”

Yes, I really said that. I am an idiot. (Also, apologies to readers in Edmond. I love Edmond! Really! But my god Edmond is way the hell out there. Seriously.)

So the nice customer service person cancelled my card and apologized for the inconvenience and said that I would get my new card in approximately two weeks and have a nice evening.

Whoa there. Two weeks? TWO WEEKS?!? What am I supposed to do without a debit card for TWO WEEKS? How will I get a cup of COFFEE?

This morning Wade said, “My paycheck should have been deposited last night.”

“Well that’s terrific!” I said, “except that I don’t have a DEBIT CARD, remember?”

“Heh heh. No you don’t!”

“TWO WEEKS!”

“You COULD write a check, you know.”

“???”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but it’s going to be a long two weeks. I might have to paint that damn bathroom after all.