El dia de los crapos
Today was one of those horrible, stupid days for many reasons.
Firstly -- the house is a sty. This weekend included such routine-disrupting activities as painting the kitchen and welcoming a new houseguest. While both of these things are seriously positive, because who doesn't want a purple kitchen and because our longtime friend Ryan, who has come from Seattle to pursue a Masters' degree under Dada's tutelage and is staying with us for a little while he finds a place to live, is an excellent houseguest. Dude does my dishes. Nuff said.
But these things meant that there were many days were my path to the laundry room was impeded, and so I spent the entire day doing laundry. Like seven loads, washed, dried, and folded. There was much TV watching and neglegent parenting, which of course makes anybody feel like a totally super person. On the plus side, the God of Baby Preservation was watching the Jakester today more than I was. Not only did Jacob not fall down the stairs or off Big Brother's bed, but he has absolutely no new bruises to report whatsoever. This is basically a miracle.
Secondly -- we have no money, none, and it's not our fault and there's nothing we can do about it. You see, we have overspent only very slightly awaiting for a gigantic tax return to deposit ANY DAY NOW ALREADY. This wouldn't normally be a problem except that Dada maxed out my credit card on his most recent trip to Seattle, all on reimburseable expenses THAT HAVE NOT YET BEEN REIMBURSED. There is no respite from the poverty. There is only waiting for The Man, who in this case has two faces, to get his stinking act together. I love waiting in the same way that I love telemarketers.
Thirdly -- and this comes in combination with Secondly -- George the Green Car is sick. His oil pressure light came on this morning on our drive home. He has been whining so loudly when he wakes up in the morning ever since Newark turned into Alaska, and our secret hope is that perhaps he needs an oil change and some less viscous oil. It is also possible that his oil pump will need replaced, which the dealer is suggesting will cost $1100. Awesome. Even more awesome is that we can't really drive him, at all, unless we are going straight to the dealership, for fear of destroying the engine. Dada seems to think that it's not that bad as long as we let George warm up a bit. Let's hope.
Let's also hope that tomorrow is another day, one that brings babies who don't wake up at 4:30 am, phonecalls from preschools telling us we got in, and perhaps even a gigantic tax return deposited in the correct account. Please, something.
Firstly -- the house is a sty. This weekend included such routine-disrupting activities as painting the kitchen and welcoming a new houseguest. While both of these things are seriously positive, because who doesn't want a purple kitchen and because our longtime friend Ryan, who has come from Seattle to pursue a Masters' degree under Dada's tutelage and is staying with us for a little while he finds a place to live, is an excellent houseguest. Dude does my dishes. Nuff said.
But these things meant that there were many days were my path to the laundry room was impeded, and so I spent the entire day doing laundry. Like seven loads, washed, dried, and folded. There was much TV watching and neglegent parenting, which of course makes anybody feel like a totally super person. On the plus side, the God of Baby Preservation was watching the Jakester today more than I was. Not only did Jacob not fall down the stairs or off Big Brother's bed, but he has absolutely no new bruises to report whatsoever. This is basically a miracle.
Secondly -- we have no money, none, and it's not our fault and there's nothing we can do about it. You see, we have overspent only very slightly awaiting for a gigantic tax return to deposit ANY DAY NOW ALREADY. This wouldn't normally be a problem except that Dada maxed out my credit card on his most recent trip to Seattle, all on reimburseable expenses THAT HAVE NOT YET BEEN REIMBURSED. There is no respite from the poverty. There is only waiting for The Man, who in this case has two faces, to get his stinking act together. I love waiting in the same way that I love telemarketers.
Thirdly -- and this comes in combination with Secondly -- George the Green Car is sick. His oil pressure light came on this morning on our drive home. He has been whining so loudly when he wakes up in the morning ever since Newark turned into Alaska, and our secret hope is that perhaps he needs an oil change and some less viscous oil. It is also possible that his oil pump will need replaced, which the dealer is suggesting will cost $1100. Awesome. Even more awesome is that we can't really drive him, at all, unless we are going straight to the dealership, for fear of destroying the engine. Dada seems to think that it's not that bad as long as we let George warm up a bit. Let's hope.
Let's also hope that tomorrow is another day, one that brings babies who don't wake up at 4:30 am, phonecalls from preschools telling us we got in, and perhaps even a gigantic tax return deposited in the correct account. Please, something.
posted by Claire at 11:36 PM
3 Comments:
Sorry you had a sucky day. I hope today is better.
Sounds like a truly sucky day. There's always tomorrow and the hope of the big deposit! Hope the car isn't too sick. And Kudos on the no bruises thing. Color me impressed!
Sorry for the day of suckage!
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