I'm home from work "sick" today.
You see, I suffer from a disease called Kinetosis.
a.k.a.. . .Motion sickness.
And the reason I'm home from work? Let's just say that life has been moving a little too fast for me lately. And besides, whenever I shed a tear or two anymore my eyes puff up, leaving me looking like the Pillsbury dough boy. Why is it that I can't have a good old-fashioned cry anymore without having to wear a badge of shame the next day? Much better to be home "sick" - sleeping, reading, eating and plotting my revenge against my husband and daughters.
And how have I spent my day?
First, I took the load of dark clothing I lovingly washed yesterday, and "accidentally" dropped all of my husband's clean clothing so that it simply had to go back in the laundry hamper again . . . . .
And then I strolled through the house picking up all of the gum wrappers, soda cans, water bottles and used teeth whitening strips my darling teenage daughters have left in their wake, making a conscious decision to rifle through every receipt, note, and ticket stub I could find to catch them in some form of deceitful behavior . . . .
Next, I gave the dog stealth lessons before I sent her outside in order to hide the fact that I had stayed home from my neighbors (i.e. my parents, my sister, and her family) which would only invite questions about my illness that I didn't want to answer. . .
Then, I decided to consume an entire box of Kraft macaroni and cheese only to find that the only box in the house was organic. . . .
And when I tried to hide the evidence of my organic binge by taking the kitchen garbage to the garage, I was surprised to find that my car had not been where I thought it was all morning, but instead proudly displayed on the driveway for all to see. . .
That was the moment I decided to enter the world of blogging. So here I am writing my first blog. And although the blog is intended to be about raising teenage daughters, no one could ever write such a blog without complaining about her husband and life in general, could she?
Well, it's clear I can't anyway.
