Lord, I need more strength this morning than my one allotted breakfast cup of coffee is likely to impart. Be with me, please, and help me not to hurt anyone or grump overly at those who do not deserve my wrath. Indeed, help me to be kind even to those who honestly deserve my bile, because I’d like to be the sort of person who is graceful under pressure and not the sort of person who spouts obscenities in a crisis.
I pray all of this in the name of your Son and also chocolate and bacon and pretty pink drinks… Amen.
Oh, hi! Sorry, I find that starting off my day with a heart-felt prayer can really help to clear my mind as well as fine-tune my righteous indignation later on when everything is still a great big mess. Don’t mind me.
So, I have to make this quick, because I have a dentist appointment. I KNOW! Nothing like starting off the day with having your teeth scraped, I say. I find it sets the tone for the entire day, if the tone you want is WHITE HOT ANNOYANCE.
I’m sure it has nothing to do with being old or how much coffee and tea and diet coke I drink (ahem), but after something like 33 cavity-free years, now every time I go to the dentist they find a cavity. Soon my teeth will be nothing more than enameled swiss cheese. I use the special toothpaste! I have an ultrasonic toothbrush! And still—cavities. Sad.
(I don’t floss, though. Flossing is for masochists. And don’t be telling me that the lack of flossing is the cause of the cavities, either, because none of the cavities have been between teeth. They’ve all been in the deep grooves of my molars. And until I have a giant rotted spot situated between two teeth I shall maintain that FLOSS IS THE DEVIL’S HENCHSTRING.) (Hey, I typed “henchman” first, and that just seemed wrong. So yes, henchstring.) (Shut up.)
Other things that are grumping me out, today:
Hey, I finally got around to looking in the envelope for the parking ticket I got while being held captive in hair coloring hell. I had been all “Pffft! $3! Whatever!” about it, because parking tickets downtown are cheap and who cares, but GUESS WHAT! My little yellow envelope contained a ticket for $3 for an expired meter, yes. It ALSO contained TWO tickets for $5 each for “extended parking beyond limit.” And ALL THREE TICKETS were issued at the same time. Excuse me, but: THE HELL?? I complained vociferously to Otto, who launched into an explanation of the science of tire-chalking and how they were well within their rights because I’d been there several hours, and blah blah blah. I needed to remind him about the clause in his contract which directs him to respond with nothing less than, “Oh my darling, that is horribly unfair and wrong, and also you are looking stunning today!”
[Side note: It is apparently difficult to compliment your wife while you are laughing and trying to pretend she’s not an UTTER LOON.]
[Also unrelated: Women with excessive and unfair parking tickets and unsympathetic husbands are not known for putting out. Just sayin’.]
In other news, my DARLING daughter’s PPMS (yes, I’m going to call it pre-pre-menstrual syndrome) continues apace. To name just a single unbearable injustice: She has only two pairs of jeans with buttonhole elastic in the waist. (For the unfamiliar, this allows you to tighten the waist of the pants for a custom fit, which is important if, say, you are the kind of child on whom the SLIM pants are still gigantic.) She has four MORE pairs of jeans which—HORRORS!—do NOT have buttonhole elastic. She does, however, own no less than SIX belts.
Can you do the math and figure out the problem here? I’ll give you a minute.
If you determined that occasionally the two elastic pairs are dirty and not washed RIGHT THIS SECOND MOOOOOOOM!, leaving the poor dear to wear an inferior pair of jeans to school along with the belt of her choice, but that the belt “feels funny” and it “looks all lumpy” and “EVERYONE HATES ME AND WAAAAHHHHHHH!”, you are CORRECT!
Your prize is consecutive mornings in hell. Congratulations!
Yesterday morning was so disagreeable that I pulled out the Big Guns and last night explained that if we have ANOTHER morning like that, this week, Friday’s birthday party will be canceled and that will be that. In the afternoon she’s nearly a reasonable human, and is all repentance and cuddles and sweetness. This morning a single warning was all it took to bring her down from head-spinning REDRUM! REDRUM! hysteria to a mid-level neck-snapping, eye-rolling state… and so when she left her folder on the kitchen table I saw it but didn’t say a word.
And now I sort of feel like a bitch, but OH WELL. You treat me like a maidservant, I will fix your breakfast and lunch, but reminding you to REATTACH YOUR HEAD before leaving the house is out of my jurisdiction. Perhaps during the ensuing lost recess a certain princess will have some time to think about her actions.
More likely she will come home and yell at me for not reminding her to take her stuff. Such is the neverending joy of being the mama!
Really, it’s a shame we sent in our taxes months ago. This is totally shaping up to be a can’t-find-that-last-1099 kind of a morning….