Poppy Mom

Hit the snooze button again. Go on. I dare you.

I would like to know something. How is it that B.'s alarm clock, with a squawk so penetrating that it's probably rendered us sterile, can wake me up all the way in the living room, but he can sleep through it four times with his head less than two feet away from it?

I'm tired. Real tired. If I wasn't so tired I'd go into the bedroom and tape a thumbtack to the snooze button on that damn clock. Go on. Try to hit snooze again, B.

In other annoying news: Trash. Lots and lots of trash. Yesterday our neighbor-dog managed to squeeze his hollow little head through a slat in their fence and tear into a 40-gallon garbage bag. My dogs share a yard with this dog and dammit, they want their fair share of the garbage! My Special Little Dog Murphy, whom we never, ever feed, is in a full-blown frenzy that involves sprinting through the house, barking and baying because she's in agony! Because there's garbage! And we won't let her outside! To eat any of it! And she needs! Oh, sweet Jesus, she needs! Used Kleenex and rotting turkey skin! In order to live!

This isn't a good day for me to be learning how to deal with my annoyances, but that's what I'm doing.

Therapy yesterday was actually fun. I didn't get a ruler to the knuckles for not doing my homework. However, if I don't do it for next week, The Doc is going to make me donate $10 to the Republican party. That counts as psychological torture, doesn't it?

We did talk about some very interesting things, though. Like how the word "should" is an evil, evil word. Example:

I should just let stupid-ass Murphy eat the damn garbage. Let her puke cotton balls for a week. is bad.

It would be nice if Murphy didn't require a half a pound of old sauerkraut and a shoe with the hole in the sole to survive, but she does and that's ok. She'll only spend a day or two horking it up on my hardwood floors. is much better. Less frustrating. More realistic.

Another example:

B. should get his ass to bed earlier so that I don't wake up with blood trickling out my ears from his goddamn alarm clock. is bad. And kind of mean.

It would be nice to not have to listen to this shit first thing in the morning, repeatedly, for 40 minutes before I drag his ass out of bed, but there is coffee. And Diet Coke. And they love me and would never forsake me and will keep me powered like a poorly-tuned engine well overdue for its 300,000-mile tune-up. But at least it's running! is better. Delusional, but better.

Let's try another one:

I should stop bitching on my blog. makes me feel guilty.

It would be nice if I could stop bitching on my blog, but it's so much fun. is better. And so very, very true.

Posted by Robin at January 6, 2005 10:22 AM | TrackBack