Exercises in futility

It has occurred to me that I spend a large portion of my life engaging in utterly futile activities.

Like cleaning the bathroom when I live with three males. One of them (at least) apparently enjoys peeing on the bottom of the raised lid and letting (some of) it just splash into the bowl instead of peeing directly into the bowl. I guess the bowl itself just isn't challenging enough.

Like killing fruit flies. Ohmygod, the fruit flies. I kill dozens a day, yet they seem only to increase in number. I had a brilliant idea this morning, though. Last night I said to my mom that maybe I should just name them and consider them pets instead of killing them since killing them seems to be an exercise in futility. But then I remembered . . . all of our pets die! Seriously, we have the world's worst luck with pets ever. Among the pets that died under our care when I was growing up were several dogs, several cats, a bird, an iguana, a chameleon, numerous fish, and a peacock or two, I kid you not. So maybe I'm onto something here. I bet if I give them names and pretend to love them, they will quickly meet their demise.

Like talking to Lauren. This girl talks all. day. long, and often it leaves me completely bewildered. Here are a couple of conversations from this week:

Lauren: Mommy, I wish there was nobody in the world except princesses so I wouldn't have a tummy ache.
Me: Hmm, because princesses don't get tummy aches?
L: I wish we were just all princesses.
M: But what about the boys? Would they be princes?
L: Well, I wish there just weren't any people at all, actually.
M: But if there were no people, you wouldn't be here.
L: I wish I was a fish.

Conversation 2,387:
Me: We're going to a party at Evan's house.
L: Who's Evan?
M: Your cousin Evan. You know Evan.
L: Oh yeah, I thought you were talking about the other Evan.
M: What other Evan? We don't know another Evan.
L: You don't know him, but I do. He has white hair.
M: Oh, and where did you meet this Evan?
L: You took me to his house, but you didn't go in. I just went upstairs and played and you weren't there.

For the record, I have not and would not drop her off at some strange boy's house. Like many conversations with Lauren, I have NO idea what she is talking about. I recently suggested that maybe she had dreamed something she was describing to me because I knew it had not happened in real life. Now any time she's wrong about something she says she was just dreaming.

The list of futile activities is endless. Doing laundry, dusting this almost-entirely-wood-floor house, feeding my children. Seriously, they just get hungry again.