This is my email to my husband about how one measely hour has the power to bring down a whole day.
I'll add commentary for your enjoyment.
My efforts to make today nice and simple and great are fruitless.
On the way to dance (my daughter's dance class), I checked the mail.
Direct TV says they have reviewed our complaint and our bill is legitimate.
If we don't pay on time we will be charged a fee.
My husband and I have an ongoing battle with Direct TV over $62.87. I refuse to pay a bogus charge and would just as soon watch my good FICO score tumble than pay these stinkers. I want to stand on my pile of used swiffer dust clothes and mismatched socks and declare, "Just because I'm not somebody doesn't mean I'm nobody." They will not get me $62.87.
Ever.
I asked my daughter if she had all her dance stuff. She did have both of her jazz shoes (last week she had only one).
She didn't have either of her ballet shoes. She doesn't know where they are.
On the way in from dance, I saw my 9 year old son run, run, back to the table where his homework is.
I asked him what he was doing and that he better not lie. He was watching TV.
This is after he came home and went down to is room to play legos instead of starting his homework.
I told him he's going to bed when the little kids do. And tonight, because both of them are looking/feeling sick, is 7pm.
I also told him not to get up from the table w/o asking me first. Not even to go to the bathroom.
I went upstairs to put away laundry.
This is my son who could care less about doing anything that takes effort. If it requires enery, effort or concentration, count him out. I have told him he will end up a bum on the streets or an inmate at a cold, poorly run prison. Nothing matters. Nothing sinks in. He may end up like his grandfater who drove a Hostess truck for a living. As a perk, he was allowed to eat whatever he wanted. He quickly made friends with the milkman. They shared their free,endless bounty. And then my father-in-law got into technology stuff and has had a string of successful companies. Even the UNIBOMBER took notice and used said father-in-law's company as a return address on one of his delightful packages.
But my son can know none of this. Laziness=cardboard boxes and/or orange jumpsuits. Period.
The phone rang and my 12 year old son answered. It's Noah E. (from boyscouts) calling to say the scouts have a fundraiser at the the local dump at 6pm.
Noah doesn't know when it's over or what they are doing.
I came downstairs to get more details about the fundraiser and 9 year old was running to get back to his chair.
12 year old is wondering why there is yeast spilled all over the floor and inside the fridge.
I'm wondering what happened to my well made plans for a happy night.
And I'm wondering if I can have a shot of Nyquil as a nightcap tonight.
Guilt-free booze.
I don't drink. At all. Not a drop. And this mess is far beyond the healing powers of diet coke. But don't think I would really drink NYQUIL for a buzz. I wouldn't. It just an cheap metaphor demonstrartimg my pain and anguish over the happenings from 3:30 to 4:30.
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