So for the past week or so, it's been me and Concrete Blonde. In the torn up kitchen. Oh! Why Yes! My kitchen IS STILL TORN UP! So nice of someone besides me to notice! Nevermind. I don't want to talk about it. I've stopped wanting to cook. I'm not interested in shifting my family's
And if I'm not going to rant and hypothesize about cooking, what, pray tell, am I doing here today?
Well, I'm freaking out. Not that it matters, because I'm alone all day (stop the violin music. I love it. Seriously.) and no one knows when I've spent the day freaking out, because by the time they wander in like zombies between 3 and 5, I'm usually over it. What am I freaking out about today?
Check it out. I have a list.
1. People are stupid. And those people are the administrators running our schools.
2. My dog is a PIA. (pain in the ass. I just learned what PIA was today. now you know, too.)
3. It's TOO COLD OUTSIDE. I need sun. Now.
4. The world is ending.
5. I'm mad at a man. Which is somewhat like being mad at the air. Or the rain. Pointless. Whatever. Shut up.
6. I usually love Mondays. I do not love today.
7. I feel trapped in Iowa right now. We haven't been anywhere in ages. And that's not going to change any time soon. Highlander is covering for an incompetent nincompoop, managing a race, and working full time. Hey. I could go without him. Eh. But there's that marriage thing. And besides. I HAVE NO ONE TO GO WITH. See number 5.
8. I'm in a fight with my house. Peeling paint, windows that are falling apart, and a TORN UP KITCHEN. I want to run away from home. Which would be pointless, because I'd just come right back. Since it's home and all.
Nevermind. I think I'll just go lie down. And be mad. Or something.
I saw this card in a store in Des Moines (I nearly bought it, but then decided it was so appropriate that it would be redundant to send it.) this weekend when we were trying to enjoy some peace and quiet in the mall, but Zoe was yanking on my arm and whining because I wouldn't take her shopping in Justice. Which, for those of you who are unaware, is a children's store, catering to small people between the ages of 6 and 11 that has a wall of padded underwire bras, sized for children between the ages of 6 and 11, and (as Zoe pointed out to me) the child mannequins "have boobs. mom. look. boobs. on little kids. that's so freaky. mom. look. mom." Sigh. Add it to the list.