It’s been a weird day. The even weirder thing about today, is that last Tuesday was also weird. I better start with last Tuesday–you’ll thank me later.
It was a typical day in the life of me. Typical for what my life has been this last 6 weeks: Crazy, work-filled, out of the house the entire time my kids are at school, and then home to play catch-up all evening. Shea had just informed me that our cat, Jessie, had puked in the laundry room, and was trying to cover it up with dirty socks. Obviously. What do you do when you throw up on the laundry room floor?
Ah, the adventures I have. Don’t be jealous. No really, I know it’s hard not to envy this insanity.
Off I go, to clean up regurgitated cat food, because morbidly obese Jessie likes to binge and purge. I was having a serious, one-sided discussion, with her about her need to eat too fast, and then cry about not having food. No, I will not feed you again. Eat slower, and this won’t be an issue.
And then, BAM!!! Or splat. It was super loud, whatever it was. I stood up and started asking, “what was…” There was no point continuing. Goodness, gracious, great explosion of laundry detergent.
Well, that just happened.
I wiped it up with towels, washed the towels, and then our floor drain said, “too much soap,” and started spitting gross drain water all over the floor.
As a Buddhist, I should be willing to accept that these are all signs that I need a karmic boost.
This might have even been the same night that, in an attempt to figure out why we had a world of ants walking two-by-two across the floor, I located a cinnamon-and-sugar bagel Xander had “misplaced.” In his defense, I believe our puppy, Emma, knocked the bagel off the arm of the couch, which is located right up against the back of the computer desk. Xander thinks, lost and gone forever; ants think, THIS IS AMAZING!!!
I also got reprimanded for serving pasta and meat sauce on Taco Tuesday. I am not winning any Mother of the Year awards in this house. Of course, in all of my extra work hours, I have once again forgotten about the ever-important Taco Tuesday. I was reminded by Xander, on the walk home from the bus. He’s probably going to ask to trade me in for a better model–the version who remembers Taco Tuesday.
Fast forward to today. Honestly, when 23 May rolls around, if you can’t find me, I’m hiding. I’ll see you on the 24th, mmkay?
The day started moderately well. I forgot to ask my doctor to for a new prescription for birth control, but other than that, it was just another day. Until I read my email, and found out that I am not eligible for the Assistant Aquatics Manager position. Yes, I applied. And yes, I am not “qualified” for a job I have actually had. You might as well tell me I’m not qualified to breathe–wait. Maybe I’m not.
Let the record show that it doesn’t bother me.
Just kidding, it’s crushing.
Fast forward, fast forward, fast forward. Home from work, hanging out, trying to figure out what smells like…shit?
Well now, that would be the shit that Emma is playing with. Human shit, no less.
Knowing I will probably regret my actions, I walk toward the bathroom. Wouldn’t you know that one of my children, at some point in the day, took a giant poo, left the toilet open, and didn’t flush. If you were ever contemplating motherhood, let me tell you, it’s a glorious life. A gloriously shit-filled, stinky, dirty life.
Emma reached her poopie face into the toilet, grabbed a turd, and then played with it from there, to here. 30-so feet of poo smear. My gosh, I’m a lucky lady.
Also, the dish-washing fairy did not visit while I was at work. Crap.
Literal crap. Here, there, and everywhere. See why I stared with last Tuesday?! It was much more sanitary.
