Tuesday, June 3, 2008

pamela's guide to recovering from a mind-numbing day

  1. Jump out of bed after being rudely awakened by thunder at 6:27 a.m. to run outside for the two loads of laundry that are still on the line from yesterday. Try hard to find a shoe for your right foot from the pile of shoes at the bedside. Settle for two left fake Crocs. Trip down the back stairs and over the demon cat. Carry the overflowing laundry basket to the front door and knock so that you a) scare the fluids from The Mister, who was not aware that you were outside, and b) do not drop all of the clean diaper covers on the dirty porch floor.
  2. Hug said Mister goodbye, wish him well for the day, say you'll see him sometime when the evening hours are represented by double digit numbers.
  3. Put the kettle on to make coffee.
  4. Go upstairs to ask the internets what the weather will be, and if it will rain for the rest of the day. Because you promised the short people they could go to the playground today, and they are going to be pissed off if you have decided to Make It Rain and Renege On Your Word. Because all they wanted to do Yesterday, Day Of Misery And Riding In The Car For Hours With Gas At $4.12 A Gallon To Get Groceries And 227 Pounds Of Asparagus, was go to the playground and you are a Bad, Meanie Mother.
  5. Cringe, and Consider Drinking Whisky At 7 a.m. when the internets say it is highly likely that it will rain all day.
  6. Read Bossy, Maggie, Dammit, and read the New York Times.
  7. Catch a whiff of something that smells hot. Cringe again, because once it smells hot, it is too late already, so prepare to deal with something really awful.
  8. Run to the kitchen just in time to see the handle fall off the tea kettle. And be overwhelmed by the smell of melting plastic.
  9. Cry.
  10. Cry.
  11. Cry some more.
  12. Photograph singed tea kettle.
  13. Take a self-portrait to show everyone on the internets how sad you are.
  14. Get makeshift tea kettle (read: saucepan) out of the cupboard and attempt to boil water without ruining things.
  15. Grind coffee.
  16. Do not leave the kitchen, because you cannot be trusted to remember what it is you are actually doing.
  17. Pray that you do not burn anything for the rest of the day your life.
  18. Thank God you don't ever put the children on the stove, because you probably would have ruined them by now as well. Also pray about no rain, and that you don't leave a child at the playground.
  19. Try to push the French Press down, but find you are unable to even do that. Pour one half cup of coffee. Try again with moderate success.
  20. Sigh.
  21. Pour some creamer in your coffee, and some on the floor.
  22. Sigh. Again.
  23. Go outside to look at the pretty poppies, and wish that your poppies were the kind that knocked Dorothy and her friends out on their way to Oz. Because that might help a little.
  24. Enjoy a highly mediocre cup of coffee, and keep reminding yourself that it is more coffee than you have had in 48 hours. Also enjoy one of the last items left of the Really Bad Habit, as NYS has just enacted at $2.50 tax on each pack, and there will be no more Really Bad Habit going on over here. Good work, NY state! Bastards.
  25. Turn to walk into the front yard to admire the pea plants. Stand there like a moron and watch the cat puke all over the neighbor's sidewalk. (Note to self: Get worm pills.)
  26. Realize you left your gallon of expensive organic Amish cow milk IN THE CAR, OVERNIGHT.
  27. Go back in the House That Smells Of Burned Plastic, and say a few words of fond remembrance over the tea kettle.
  28. Don't fold the six loads of laundry that really wish they were back in the drawers, already. Because it has been days and days since they have been clean. And they are considering moving out.
  29. Contemplate showering, and its positive effect on your life.
  30. Get more coffee.

4 comments:

talk to me, people. because you know i get all giddy when you do.