Too Busy to Bitch

15 Apr

Bitch of the Day:

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. When have I ever been too busy to bitch’? I really have been, though. I’ve been too occupied to even glance at my blog, much less post to it. I’m still playing catch up after the plague. Unfortunately, my chore list didn’t cease to exist just because I felt like shit.

Why is it when I’m sick, I not only have to fend for myself, but also continue to take care of everyone and everything else? None of the slack gets picked up when I’m down for the count. Even though I wait hand-and-foot on the husband when he is sick and do my best to make sure he is comfortable, does he take the initiative to do more around the house when I feel like death? Does he takeover caring for the children so I can rest? Does he even do the chores HE is responsible for doing? The answer to that would be a big, fat, fucking NO.

Yes, my husband got the plague, too. And yes, he had it bad – but – he was the last to get it. Which means he could have stepped up when he was still well and I just wanted to die. It sucks being sick and having to watch the state of your house disintegrate – especially when you are as anal-retentive about your house as I am. Keeping up with your kids’ medication times and dosages when you feel like ass and can’t focus on anything is risky at best. But worst of all, having to do your husband’s share of household responsibilities while ill just so you can attempt to make your home somewhat inhabitable is like being kicked in the teeth.

Now that we’re all well (relatively speaking,) has the negligent hubby uttered one word of thanks or appreciation for taking care of everything and everyone? Please refer to the previous questions for the answer. Karma’s a mofo, though. The plague wreaked havoc on the hubby and gave him a ruptured eardrum. I’m not saying he deserved it or that I derived any joy from him suffering – I didn’t. I’m just saying…..   He’s fine, so don’t go thinking I’m horrible. His hearing will come back, eventually. The $60 in prescriptions I had to pay for will most assuredly cure him of his ails.

So, yeah. After all that, I’ve been running around like a crazy woman disinfecting the house, catching up on laundry, working on the yard, grocery shopping, yadda yadda yadda. I have been in the yard everyday since Saturday spreading grass seed and attempting to get it watered so we’ll have something more  for the kids to play on besides poison oak and fire ant hills. I say attempting because my hydration apparatuses were not sufficient at watering the whole lawn in a day’s time. I finally found a few oscillating sprinklers the other night that will cover a  large expanse of yard and it made me so giddy I could have pee’d. No one should be this happy about sprinklers. Ever. Too bad I didn’t find them sooner. Otherwise, I might have saved myself from the dumbest sunburn I have ever had in my entire life.

Since we have no grass, only weeds and ants, wherever there is water there is mud. Down here, when there is mud, you wear your “Sorrento Reeboks.” For all you non-coonasses, Sorrento is a little podunk town close to where I live in which a lot of good ol’ boys wear these “Reeboks” otherwise known as galoshes, rain boots, etc. These:

Look at the boots, not my absurdly pregnant belly

So yesterday and today as I was making mud, I donned my boots whilst wearing shorts. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Behold! The world’s dumbest sunburn:

You can even see the little notch from the back of the boot

I don’t even begin to know how you even that out. If anyone has any suggestions, I’m all ears. Also: Ouch. It is on FIRE!

Bitchin’ Moment of the Day:

Even though it is the root cause of my ridiculous burn, I am very happy about my yard. One of our relatives called in a favor and had someone come out and tame the jungle that was my lawn. My yard hasn’t looked this good since we moved in. I was able to spread the grass seed and roundup all the areas we don’t want grass to grow. It’s one more monkey off my back. So thanks, Cuz! I owe you a Strawberry Abita or a Banana Split Daquiri. 🙂

In other news, even though he is entirely too much to handle some days, my son amazes me everyday with how smart he is. My son is five years-old, hasn’t started kindergarten yet and he can read. I couldn’t spell my flipping name when I started kindergarten. As we’re riding down the road or watching something on t.v., he’ll ask, “What does _____ mean?” When I ask where he heard the word, he’ll point to where he read it. He takes it upon himself to sound words out and only asks for help as a last resort. Don’t get me wrong, the kid isn’t reading Nietzsche or anything, but the fact he can read his books by himself is pretty freakin’ impressive. If you ask me, anyway.

Lastly, I got to go out tonight! Can I get a hell yeah? Can I get an Amen? I went out and had wine (and chocolate fondue omfg) with one of my favorite co-workers.  We sat outside, enjoying the nice weather with our wine and chatted. It was nice to get out of the house after being bound there for so long by the plague. It was also very refreshing to talk to someone  her age (23) that is focused on her goals and determined to meet them, no matter what. Even if it means leaving all she knows in order to make it happen. That’s bravery. A rare quality these days. You go, girl. I’ll say I knew you when… 🙂

Later Bitches!


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