Ever Have One of Those Days?

I decided after I dropped the kids off at school that I was going to clean the cat boxes. I get downstairs… no litter. I can’t even blame it on anyone because I clean the box and I buy the litter… so I decide to run to the store (I have to pick up a prescription anyway, they called yesterday and said it was ready).

I get to the store, get the litter – pharmacy doesn’t open for another 15 mins so I look around and, yes, I do have a problem, I’m an impulse shopper – which means 20 mins and $50 in stuff later I go to the pharmacy for the prescription. Um, yeah, it’s not ready. They don’t know why they called and said it was ready, ’cause it’s not. I can come back Monday and get it.

Ok, I figure, I’m out, I’ll get some nice fresh fruit and have fruit salad for lunch. I don’t like the fruit at this store, so I go across the street to another store where the fruit is better priced. I find some fresh stuff – strawberries, blackberries, raspberries – and I get some jarred stuff – not as healthy, I know, but tasty and I love jarred pears and peaches.

So, I get all my stuff, lug it out to the car, drive home and start bringing my goodies inside. And of course, it’s me, so the bag breaks in the driveway and all my fruit goes splattering everywhere. There’s glass all over, the strawberries and raspberries popped out of their plastic containers and are scattered across the driveway. I live in a suburban neighborhood, the houses are fairly close together. The woman two doors down does daycare out of her home, my neighbor is retired, the guy across the street works weird hours…

My reaction to seeing my beautiful fruit salad colorfully decorating my driveway is to yell “F—!” I then realize that someone may have heard me and yell “Ohhh S**t!” while looking around. Realizing that I’ve done it again, I mutter “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit” under my breath.

I decide to take my other purchases inside – I have some hamburger meat that I don’t want to get warm outside. So I take my blackberries – which has popped open, but is salvageable – along with my other stuff and put it inside the doorway. I figure I’ll throw the blackberries in some vanilla yogurt – not as good as the fruit salad idea, but at least I have my blackberries.

I get a broom and start cleaning up the sticky mess and proceed to cut my finger. Not a bad cut, just enough to p* me off a little bit more. I get the mess in the driveway cleaned up and leave the broom in the sink – now I have to rinse that because it’s all sticky – and get ready to put stuff away.

I find the blackberry container, but all the blackberries are missing. I’m thinking WTF. I look down and there’s a dog toy next to the plastic container. Oh S**t! And I mean Oh S**t because the damn dog can’t eat stuff like that cause it gives her the runs. I then start to put my stuff away… well, it’s all sticky. I have to rinse everything and I don’t want to put it away wet, so I leave all my stuff spread all over the counter.

Okay, now I can finally clean that cat box. I go down and start cleaning and realize that I’m going to have to drag the vacuum down two flights of stairs because my broom is sticky. As I’m vacuumming, I look over, and the cats are out of food. Dammit! That’s The Boy’s job! Why didn’t he feed them?

I decide I should go and check on Gus – the old man kitty – to make sure he’s ok. He’s got a nice little bed with a heater under it cause he gets cold – which is in the other room. I peek around the corner and – I’m not kidding – there’s a paper plate next to Gus’ bed filled with chips! The Boy fed the 19 year old cat chips!!

I feed the cats, finish the catboxes and rinse the broom. I’m sticky and covered in cat litter dust plus whatever else I’ve encountered on my travels through my house that has decided to stick to my fruity sweatpants, so I decide I need a shower.

I get in the shower and am all wet and realize dammit! I left my new disposable razor that I just bought downstairs. I end up using my old one which is totally dull – the reason I bought the new one.

I am ready to wash my hair and Oh My God there’s no shampoo!! Dammit! I find The Girl’s No More Tears Smurf Berry Shampoo and end up using that.

Now I am sitting at my laptop, it’s lunchtime, I haven’t gotten any work done, I don’t have any fruit salad, my armpits are stinging like crazy, I smell smurfberrylicious and I’m waiting for my dog to crap all over my house…

My First Haiku

I wrote this many years ago when I was taking an online creative writing class.  I enjoy learning new things and I wanted a fresh perspective on writing.  One of the assignments was to write a Haiku.  For you poets out there, my intention is not to offend anyone.  This is proof that some people can write poetry and have the talent for it and some cannot – me being one of them.

My First Haiku

We walk through the woods.
Tall trees blocking out the sun,
Fall leaves underfoot

Holding Peanut’s hand,
The Big One runs ahead
“Please stay on the trail!”,

We call out to him,
“Do not go too far ahead.”
He finds a small snake.

It slithers along.
He watches until it’s gone,
Joy upon his face.

I walk on the edge
So she stays in the center.
My legs brush nature.

A family of three
pass close, right in front of us,
Graceful and gentle,

They bound through the trees.
Not seeming to be bothered
By our intrusion.

The perfect ending
To a great day.  We talk of
Taking  walks more often.

The next day, I see
What appears to be a mole,
Darker than I thought.

On my neck where my
t-shirt collar would have been.
It’s dark and… oh no!

It has big black legs!!
It’s in there tight as can be.
“Oh no!  Get it out!”

“Please, please get it out!”
My cries startle my husband,
Who was fast asleep.

Calmly with tweezers
He pulls it from its meal.  Me.
My savior, my hero!

“Well”, he says to me.
“I’m guessing that’s the end of
Nature walks for you.”

Why I Am No Longer Allowed to Say “Crap” In My House

Crap is one of my favorite words.  It fits just about any situation.

You stub your toe. “Well crap!”

It works.

You are referring to something general. “Bring that crap here.”

It works.

It’s a polite way to say other impolite words.  I love the word crap. It’s craptastic!

So, why am I no longer allowed to say it?

One night, the hubby made dinner.  This was when The Girl was around 4 years old.  I was working a crappy corporate job and was late coming home. (See!  It works.)

I arrived home just in time for dinner.  My hubby dished out plates of food and set them in front of the kids. The Boy picked up his food and ate right away.

The Girl looked down at the plate, looked back up at Daddy and said “I can’t eat this crap!”

After that, I was forbidden to use the word crap in my house.