DRY Ink

Because all my plans consistently go awry, I’ve decided to stop planning. But that leaves serious holes in my week. I obviously haven’t got all the details worked out here yet.
But the bottom line is I have a free day today. Thanks in part to the annual ‘everybody is late day’ that we schedule for the first Monday after day light savings, I didn’t even have to get dressed today to take the cherubs to school. Jeff was late enough to do it.
And thanks to Jeff’s big Open House yesterday, I don’t even have ‘avoid thinking about dinner all day, then rush to throw something together at 6 pm’ on tap for today. We have left over jambalaya.
Sure I will be ignoring the files I haven’t uploaded for 2 weeks, but really, that only takes about 7.4 minutes.
Nope, the rest of the day is free.
I could take myself to the movies, but I tried a movie on Monday of last week, instead of the usual Wednesday, and that just threw everything off. Besides, nothing is playing. What is up with that? People, release some good action flicks already.
Of course I’ve tried the internet, but nothing is out there. Yep, I’ve read the entire internet. Don’t look so shocked, this happens to me a lot.
So I have nothing to do today but sit in my pj’s with my no planning policy. Are you beginning to feel my pain? It’s obvious I’m am sentenced to a lost boring day. Maybe the neighbors will do something exciting and gets the cops called on them.
Apparently, this is what my life has become. Aren’t you glad I’m back?

Despite all my desperate attempts to have Murphey, the dumb ass wonder dogg, put to sleep he is instead having minor surgery in the morning to relieve a hematoma in his right ear. Obviously, Jeff has engaged his rarely used, but once stated then omnipotent, veto power to arrange this little operation, which will leave Murph looking like he needs a ride on the short bus complete with a cone around his head. Now I ask you, who’s the the more humane person? My plan would save him from all this humiliation.
(He’s shy)
Jeff’s argument for all this is that the surgery will only cost about $200, around the same price as putting him asleep, but he is refusing to take into account the ole little something slipped into his food dish and then he goes nighty nighty, method. He never thinks these things through properly. And he calls me irrational?! Doesn’t he know what I can do around here with $200? Of course he does, but noooo, I’m cruel.
(Note the right floppy ear, (his right), ouch)
I know it’s hard to believe I actually live with all this. I mean who among us doesn’t believe that Murph has lead a long good life? Obviously his health is beginning to fail and it is time. This is his second trip to the vet this year alone. Come on people, how long am I expected to sit by and allow this nonsense to continue?
(What chew talkin bout woman?)
But Jeff will just not listen to reason no matter how valid my arguments. He just keeps asking, If it was me or one of the cherubs what would you do? and that’s just silly because we all know the right answer to that question: Nighty Nighty.

When:
is Jeff’s hand going to stop hurting and heal?
are hurricanes going to stop blowing through here?
am I gonna get licensed?
life gonna return to normal?
gas prices gonna go down?
am I gonna get a boob job?
will we be able to ride bikes to school again?
are the cherubs gonna clean their rooms?
are the laundry fairies gonna visit?
is this house gonna stop smelling so damn musty?
am I going to find the time to color my hair pink again?
will I stop feeling guilty and anxious?
are children going to stop suffering?
am I going to be able to work a normal day again, without cherubs out of school, hurricanes, etc.
am I gonna stop whining?

Why:
are boys so damn violent?
is there NEVER enough Diet Dr. Pepper?
does the power and therefore the DVR have to be out on the one day “my shows” are on?
is this damn city still under curfew?
does it take Jeff over an hour to get home from work now?
do the cherubs not go back to school until Thursday?
do I have to survive til Thursday, can’t I just curl up and die?
is it so hard to loose weight?
is there never enough time to do everything?
am I living with this sense of fear and dread?
does my mother have to be so damned needy?
does a hurricane have to blow through and triple the DRY Ink remodeling projects?
can’t I take a nap til Thursday?
do I have to be sick?
doesn’t the world have, laundry fairies, floor laying fairies, fence rebuilding fairies, dish washing fairies, roofing fairies and the like?
is life so unfair?
am I whining so damn much?

I bet you really wish I’d figure that last one out.

Right now my heart is shredding in my chest. In time, I will understand that this too shall pass and then some other shit will start up. But right now I can’t focus on that, the pain is too intense. It is becoming clearer and clearer that it is no longer a question of if things will be too much, but only when. This saddens me. I had hoped to hang on until I was licensed and then take an extended break. But right now that seems damn near impossible. I hate letting people down.

I went to the store in search of comfort food, only to find the pop tart aisle empty. Hell, all the aisles are bare in preparation for Gustav, but did they really have to clear out the brown sugar and cinnamon pop tarts? I cried in the cereal aisle of Wal-Mart, clutching my diet Dr. Pepper.

It wasn’t pretty.

So I have no idea when the breaking point will come, just that it will. Right now I am forced to sit and concentrating on holding my heart together in my chest. Tomorrow I will figure out that this is all going to be okay. Right now I just want a damn pop tart.