The best whines are ones wrapped up by an incontrovertible statement of pitifulness, one you cannot help but grant an immediate and full free Pass To Wallow on, as it were. So for a week if I need to complain about anything, I’m sure to tie it all up with a simple, “… and I can’t sleep because of the stupid Prednisone!” Because how could you possibly argue with me THEN? You can’t. Because I’m simply TOO PATHETIC. You wouldn’t argue with a woman suffering from steroid insomnia unless you were some sort of MONSTER.
This is a skill I’ve passed along to my children. Monkey—Literal Boy that he is—often changes it into something along the lines of “… because I’m JUST PITIFUL,” figuring why bother for imagery when one could get right to the heart of the matter. Chickadee, on the other hand, will highlight any little thing (“… and I have a little pimple RIGHT HERE!”) as proof that her life is tragic beyond compare and she requires your immediate pity. That’s my girl.
Anyway, I do believe we’ve reached the zenith of the Pity Olympics, this week.
Yesterday was just a case of colossally bad timing, really. Somehow I managed to schedule doctors’ appointments for both kids at the same time on opposite ends of town. Oops. I was also swamped with work, still not feeling particularly great, Otto’s car is in the shop, and we’re still watching for signs that the dog was scarred for life.
[Digression: Licorice seems pretty amused by all of the attention she’s getting. Yesterday she was maybe a little sleepier than usual, and maybe she seemed to spend a little more time licking her chops—wondering why on earth her mouth feels different, one presumes—but it does turn out that she’s nothing if not resilient. Now if only I could get the kids to stop pretending to make her yell at me, that would be awesome. Because pretty much no matter what I do, one of them pipes up in a high-pitched whine, “Hey! WAITAMINUTE! WHERE ARE MY TEETH???” Sure, super-amusing the first fifteen times, but still….]
Well, we sort of worked it out; I picked up both kids, dispatched one, continued on to the second appointment with the other, and Otto managed to swoop in for the pick-up and still make it to the chiropractor afterward. I, on the other hand, got stranded in Doctor Office Hell, because the FANTABULOUS staff at this particular office just… forgot we were there. After an hour of waiting I went back up to the desk and they were all, “You…? We…? Oh, we are SO sorry.” No explanation other than “we forgot.” These are the people to whom I trust my children’s health! Awesome!
By the time everyone was back home, it was clear that we’d also forgotten to figure out dinner, so it became one of those “I am going to solve this problem by throwing money at it” evenings, and the children were delighted when pizza showed up at our door. Still, it was a mad dash for the rest of the evening, because the kids had to eat! And finish homework! And shower! And it was garbage night! And everyone was feeling very! stressed!!
And do you know what else? MY DOG IS TOOTHLESS.
See, there’s nowhere more pitiful to go, anymore. Arguing about whose turn it is to take out the trash? Yeah, well, MY DOG HAS NO TEETH ANYMORE. (Proper response: Hey, neither does my dog. Wait, we have the same dog, dummy. Mooooom!) You had to fight through rush hour traffic to get to your appointment? Well they completely FORGOT us at our appointment, plus MY DOG IS TOOTHLESS, HAVE I MENTIONED? You were nearly late for the chiropractor? Well I didn’t get adjusted this week at all, AND MY! DOG! HAS! NO! TEETH!
Licorice Puppyhead, turned into a yardstick for all which is sad and pitiful in the world. (When asked for a comment on this unexpected turn of events, she merely muttered something about looking for her teeth. Very curious.)
This is all a very long way of saying:
1) Nothing very interesting happened yesterday, which was actually FINE, on account of the day before it was really all the excitement I can stand for a while, thanks,
2) In case you haven’t been keeping up over at Want Not, I am currently asking for votes for Want Not to hopefully secure an invitation to a conference for frugal bloggers, and while I dislike having to grub for votes, I would be perfectly happy to explain to you at length why I truly deserve this opportunity, you know, on account of my tireless work over at Want Not, my dedication to saving money, and (of course) the fact that MY DOG IS NOW TOOTHLESS.
Seriously, don’t make me show you that pitiful stoned-doggie picture again. Just vote, if you would. My toothless dog and I thank you.