I’m really struggling to write stuff at the moment. Basically there is a LOT going on in my world that is making me loose sleep, cry, clench teeth, stress, be cranky and irritable, exasperated, frustrated and generally really really negative. I can’t go into it here because I really would Dooce myself, and while on the one hand I’d really like the outcome of that, in that it would make it all go away, there’s the family to feed etc etc etc.
You know how we’re all meant to be so thankful for what we have? Yeah. At the moment I’m in the “God I hate…” and really? It’s pretty non-discriminatory. For example, God I hate…
– the sun
– having no nice clothes
– have no nice shoes
– how Oscar’s latest habit is to come up to me and ask “What’s next?”… as if I have a daily entertainment program
– or how Felix just constantly wants wants wants
– our lack of storage
– restless legs
– a broken tooth and no time or money to get it ripped out
– our car
– the heat
– the dogs
– how our back yard now is a dirt bowl with tufts of grass – how I yearn for thick lush lawn underfoot
– dog shit
– that it doesn’t occur to anyone else in this house (CHEF) to clean anything
– cravings, that then everyone else wants a piece of – for example: waffles and french toast
– time – or lack thereof
– people with absolutely NO self-awareness
– how no matter how many times I clean the bathroom, no matter how strong the chemicals I use, it still smells like piss
– boys and their poor aim
– my lower back and its general poor performance
– that my mum has a freakin’ desk in the garage, so I can’t park in our spot because when she’s in hers, with the desk, you can’t actually get by to get out of the garage. Getting close to n.i.n.e. months people.
– my mum and her expectation I’m going to help her choose which laptop to get. I’m not.
– my mumm and her penchant for providing a running narrative on my life – for example – this morning, just incase the five hours of cleaning I did yesterday weren’t enough, there was an ant plague in the pantry, that required me to empty it all out, clean and de-ant it all and re-load it. “Have you got ants have you. I’ve noticed them around for a few weeks.” or thisafternoon as I cleaned the car, “having a big clean up are you?”
– that Chef threw out our old vacuum cleaner – the one I kept in the garage to vacuum the car because the one mum impulse bought is useless for trying to clean odd shaped things such as a car. “I thought it was broken.” Of course you did sweetheart, because if you ever FUCKING cleaned the car you would have known it wasn’t broken.
– Jasper’s climing – onto tables, up the ladder to the boys’ top bunk, up the rope wall to the cubby, up into the trampoline. It’s times like these I pine for a quiet child who likes books.
– how filthy this house gets despite my best efforts to clean it. Constantly.
– and so on and so forth.
I’m just waiting for something dreadful to happen so I can come back here, tail between my legs and go all – my GOD hug and kiss your loved ones because we are all so lucky.
But really? Now? I’m looking at another week of stuff I can’t talk about except to say it’s making me miserable.