Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Special Emergency Bitching Post

My post this morning was falsely optimistic. I know that the kind of people who revel in lemony freshness would argue that I should just smile and then I'll start to feel happy, but, in my experience, there is nothing better than simply wallowing in it when you feel like shit.

My life of late consists of exactly sixteen activities, rotated randomly throughout the day:

1.) fielding angry phone calls;
2.) making polite phone calls when I feel like screaming;
3.) cleaning food debris out of the kitchen sink drain;
4.) having strangers draw my blood;
5.) having strangers insert balloons into my uterus and then fill them with irritating liquids;
6.) crying;
7.) running out of fat-free half-n-half mid-pour for the fourteenth time since '05 no matter how many gallons I buy and sprinting to the store to get more, because TEA WITH SUGAR AND FAT-FREE HALF-N-HALF IS ON THE SHORT LIST OF THINGS THAT KEEP ME SANE, SO HELP ME;
8.) reassuring my father that, no, of course I'd never walk around alone after dark;
9.) reassuring my mother that all the barbaric procedures I'm undergoing are normal, and that there is nothing at all questionable about filling a healthy 28-year-old woman's Fallopian tubes with a liquid that causes her pulse to drop and sweat to roll down her forehead, oh no;
10.) unloading the dishwasher;
11.) reloading the dishwasher;
12.) mentally (and sometimes literally) telling the obnoxious barking dog upstairs to SHUT THE FUCK UP and wondering how dogmeat would taste when scrambled with free-range eggs in some extra virgin olive oil with a little sea salt and cracked black pepper and just a drop or two of Trappey's Red Devil;
13.) doing laundry;
14.) cleaning up mouse poop;
15.) writing blog entries;
16.) reading blogs.

Guess which activities are my favorite.

Notice that sleeping, shaving my legs, spending quality time with my husband not associated with any tedious chores, and enjoying my life are conspicuously absent.

If we dropped everything and went to Amsterdam, I wonder how long we'd have before the money ran out. I'm a lawyer, so I don't know that having to rent a window in the Red Light District to earn my living would be all that different.


Blogger Mrs. Harridan said...

Oh, man. No number of fuzzy purple rings will help this kind of a shit sandwich of a day.

I'm totally feeling you on:

1) polite phone calls
2) drwing blood
3) crying
4) unloading/reloading dishwasher
5) barking dog
6) laundry

and I will add:

7) administering cat medicines 2x daily
8) throwing away receipts that have been littered throughout the house
9) massaging own shoulder in hopes that the weird pain that has been there all week will dissipate

I'm sad to say that the best quality time I've had with my husband recently was sitting in companionable silence on the subway this morning while he made faces at me in the plexiglas we were facing.

Luckily we have the weekend approaching, or I would be losing my shit.

4:15 PM  
Blogger DebbieDoesLife said...

So sorry! Life does get tedious and I know what you are going through does not help in the least.

Mouse poop?? What's up with the mouse poop?

5:49 PM  
Blogger Mrs. Harridan said...

See, you need a cat. Cats take care of the cause of the mouse poop.

6:10 PM  
Blogger Mignon said...

Ugh. A week like yours makes my eyes glaze over and Bad Thoughts start ruling my brain. I'm so sorry!! Rent a funny movie, like East is East (have you seen it? good stuff)

Mouse poop, yuck! Dead mice in traps, yuck! Dead mouse in the heater core of your 1988 Subaru and stinking up you car like a morgue with no freezer, yuck!

6:37 PM  
Blogger Mignon said...

Here are two more funny, hopefully distracting things (with sound, if you need to shut a door or something)

7:12 PM  
Blogger mama_tulip said...

Number 12? GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I think the same thing about the bastard dogs that surround my house and yip and yap all day long. They don't live above me though, and for that you have me trumped.

8:04 PM  
Anonymous Matt Z said...

What is fat free half and half? (isn't half of "half and half" cream?) It sounds so wrong.

9:15 PM  
Blogger Ditsy Chick said...

You live next door to my don't you. The yippy mutt upstairs is yappin as I write this....he'd at least make a nice snack.

I'll take your angry phone calls and raise you 1 annoying boss. I'll rent the window next to you in Amsterdam.

11:29 PM  
Blogger Tink said...

Running away to Amsterdam is totally better than my idea of running away to Disney World and hiding in the trees until night fall when I can go sneak into "It's a Small World" and free all the captive children who have been imprisoned for running away from their parents. ;)

I hope your day gets better!!

11:30 AM  
Anonymous TB said...

Yes, the crying. I know it well. Why can my hormones make me alternately a raging lunatic, a weeping mess, or a bitch from hell, but not cooperate with the whole pregnancy thing? It is a mystery of the universe.

Hang in there Arabella. It's bound to get better soon.

Oh, and don't bother with the dog meat. It doesn't taste like chicken like everybody says. It tastes like pure evil.

12:05 PM  

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