It’s really been a craptastic three weeks. The fan got tired of being the target and started throwing shit back at us. Now I know how the fan feels. Poor fan. But, God willing, things will calm down in the next week or so. In the meantime, allow this little bit of primal screaming…
- Um, extended family member? I’ll take financial and budgetary advice from you…well, never. Medical advice, perhaps. But the chance of either me or my husband taking financial advice is zero. Zilch. Nada. Kinda like your portfolio.
- Boulder parking? Perhaps you should check the dashboard for the PAID receipt before issuing me a $15 parking ticket. Bet your sweet ass I’m going to contest it, but seriously, you made me cry. Frustration leaking all over the MomVan. Next time I go to the acupuncturist, I’m taping the receipt to the windshield with a big ol’ note “SEE? PAID. MOVE ALONG NOW. AND GET YOUR EYES CHECKED, YA IDJIT!”
- Dearest oldest son, if you leave chocolate in your room for the dog to eat one more effing time, you won’t live to see nine. I don’t care that your birthday is tomorrow, I will wring.your.neck.
- Rosie, stay out of the chocolate.
- Wind. I am not a fan. Go away. Bring warm temperatures.
- Murphy. Get the holy hell out of my house. You were gone for a long time, I didn’t miss you, didn’t answer your emails and let the machine get your calls. You were not invited here and it’s time for you to get out. Take the wind with you.
- School district, you will kindly give final approval to the charter school tomorrow night. The state told you to do it, and do it you must. Yes, you can deny again and the state will then mandate the school, but you’ll look like fools and we’ll have to postpone a year. It’s bad enough that I have to go to a school board meeting on my son’s birthday, let’s not give him bad news right at bedtime, m’kay?
<deep, cleansing breath>
I feel slightly better now. Not great, barely good, but slightly better. Baby steps.