I want to tell you how today stunk.
With a capital "UNK"!
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So this morning, after bragging to Amy that Fights about grades are just about the only thing I have NOT encountered while raising my daughters, I opened their report cards. . . and yes, there was a bit of a "to do."
And then my husband absolutely refused to get wrapped up in the coverage of the Swine Flu . . . preferring to watch his boring old financial news instead. . . and I don't care that I never watch t.v. in the morning . . . doesn't he know that all of humanity may be at risk here???? Besides, if I decide one morning I want to actually watch t.v. . . . shouldn't I be the one who picks the channel ???? He gets to pick it the other 364 mornings of the year . . . does he not????
Nevertheless, I left for work. . . and on my way there, who do you think I should chance to encounter? You guessed it! The perfect-coated-one. Only she wasn't perfect-coated. She was perfect-sweatered. (It's springtime after all, you know. . . )
So probably because that skinny bitch made me feel like crap. . . I didn't feel right all day at work . . . and it's not like anything was wrong there. . . I just felt kind of blah. . . off. . . boring. . . wrong outfit . . . yeah, that was it. . . . I picked the wrong outfit today. . . all brown and dull-like . . . when the rest of the perfect-sweatered ones were all bright and cheery.
No cheery here.
So suddenly I got this overwhelming desire to leave work early and drive to the mall to get me some cheery-perfect-sweaters. "The" Mall. Not Target. Not Kohl's. "The" Mall. . . we all know that cheery resides at "The" Mall . . . and I needed cheery.
And on then - on the way there - I got a wee-bit of a panic attack. . . because, you know, I feel like I practically need a passport to get out of my comfort zone. . .
But I persevered and went in and got my clothes.
And then I was on the shopping high. . . You know what I'm talking about . . . all happy and jovial with the new clothes feeling. . . joking and laughing with the other customers at the counter. . . swapping the 15% off cards like they were contraband. . . we were having FUN at that cash register . . . . until the phone rang. . .
It was my daughter.
Spoil sport!
Luckily, I told her I would call her back when I reached the car, because we resumed our screaming match from this morning when she told me she needed money to go tanning. . . TANNING???. . . was this the child who spent the weekend at the beach??? (Not Monday, mind you. . . I didn't let her take that mental health day on Monday. . . and who knows what that Chemistry grade would have looked like if I had actually let her skip school. . . . ) but it turns out that all of that beach time over the weekend produced tan lines she needs to get rid of . . . pronto. . . must be gone before "Prom" on Saturday or it will be a crime of epidemic proportions . . .
And it suddenly became very clear to me that she hasn't been watching CNN either because - if she had - it would be a crime of PANdemic proportions . . . (am I the only one who cares about the risk to humanity in this household????)
But I'm happy to say that I hung up on her the second she let the third F-bomb fly.
Yes, you heard that correctly, the third F-bomb. . . .
And every inch of ground I had made up on my shopping high, was promptly lost in the aftermath of my rage.
And, so, when I returned home and found my daughters' car in the driveway blocking my garage door access. . . I called into the house and let it all fly. . . only to be reminded by Trigger. . . Just because you're mad at Ponzi, doesn't mean you need to take it out on me. . .
Thank you Miss Smarty-Pants-who-does-such-a-good-job-at-controlling-your-rage-Therapist!
Must everyone be a skinny bitch today???
