Things that have been shitting me to tears

  • That every person I see driving a BMW x7 or the Audi equivalent are agressive, speeding road hogs. And generally male and aged in their forties. I’m just saying.
  • The mothers who don’t have to get in the pool with their kids for their swimming lesson but insist on using the change room to get them dressed afterwards (I’m talking kids who are three or four and are still in that land of not caring about being naked in public). Thereby hogging all the space that technically should be reserved for those of us dripping wet harridans who are fucking cold and need to get dressed without some three year old little shit perving on us.
  • That the floor of the change room has a layer of water on it. I am of the belief it should not be an extension of the pool itself.
  • Everyone whinging about the price of petrol. Either get over it or catch a fucking bus. JESUS.
  • The price of diesel.
  • That you get side-effects from taking too bigger dose of your meds just like you do when you first start taking them that make you feel as shitty as you were feeling when you weren’t taking them.
  • That my meds have not been working.
  • That I now have to take one lot of meds in the morning and a different one in the evening.
  • To counter the negative effects the one in the morning are having on me.
  • Mental health.
  • Sibling fighting.
  • I keep forgetting to buy tonic water.
  • Traffic.
  • The current state of our house.
  • The amount of washing I need to do.
  • The amount of washing I need to hang out.
  • The amount of washing I need to put away.
  • This goddamn headache that I’ve had for about three weeks.
  • My weight.
  • That I can’t find the right chocolate to hit the spot of my current chocolate need.
  • The amount of chocolate I’m consuming anyway to find that elusive chocolate.
  • That potato chips are fattening.
  • 3am.
  • Dogs.
  • That the fish tank needs cleaning.
  • Storage issues and a lack of solutions.
  • Our laundry.
  • That I push four kids out my fanny and never got a private room or a room with views of the harbour bridge and city skyline or a seven day hospital stay.
  • That I paid $41 for a seven day hospital parking pass when this evening I discovered I could just have mis-used our disabled parking sticker and parked for free every single visit irrespective of Oscar being with me.
  • Car parks.
  • Having to do the grocery shop and put it all away.
  • How no matter how many times I vacuum our $100 Ikea rug in one day it is covered in food crumbs and fluff in minutes.
  • Cleaning toilets.
  • Grouting.


* Chef have his skin graft operation yesterday afternoon. He’s in the burns and plastics ward which is very shmick with city views and a level of sterility I want to roll around in. Granted, he has two wound sites, one of which hurts like hell as they’ve basically shaved skin off his body and he has to lie on his back for five days and shit in a bedpan and piss into a bottle, but hell, I’d do that for seven days respite.