Last week a motorist tried to run me off the road, and since I protested, he slowed down and tried a few more homicidal tricks to teach me to shut my mouth. I was so mad that I was completely unable to vent in this space. I took sleeping pills to get to sleep that night. The next day I was all wacked out from the pills and still stewing over that motorist. If I got any madder or obsessed with running it through my mind, I would have lost my mind.
Having reached the nadir of anger, there was only one way to go -- towards the zenith of happiness. Funny thing. I've felt pretty darn chipper this last week. I couldn't concentrate on being mad because being mad made me too mad. It's fine to be a little mad and rant about the annoying things in life. But when something really anger-inducing happens, if you let yourself get really angry then you're doomed.
I'm happy for now. And hey, my husband even started turning the wee one's clothes right way out before chucking them in the laundry basket. Life is good!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
I'm Bored!
Previously I extolled the virtures of boredom. Oh, said I, how pleasant to sit and stare at the walls and have nothing to do.
So here I sit, staring at the walls, with nothing to do, and oh god am I bored! I am going to die of bordeom if something doesn't drop into my inbox soon. Oh yes, did I mention? I am at work. I would love to work, if only I had something to do. To make matters worse, my entire department seems to be missing today, except for me, and I have nobody to gossip with. Nobody to send dumb joke-mail to. Nobody to have lunch with. One co-worker called in sick because she has to study for a night-class. Two other people were here earlier, but have now independently and mysteriously disappeared. Others have just not shown up at all today, I don't know why.
What kind of crazy office is this?? What am I here for? I give the appearance of working, but in fact my efforts at this place are simply to surf the internet for 8 hours or so and write long emails to friends who live in other cities. When I feel like doing something moderately work-related I will delete unimportant emails from my sent folder, and delete the deleted items from the deleted folder. There's something enjoyable about possibly causing myself serious problems down the line by deleting some email that may have been important. Hah. But I can't do that just yet because I am bored and I refuse to do anything fun.
It's the halfway point of the day, and the thought of another 3 and a half hours to spend in this manner is too much. The long empty afternoon looms like a giant axe of boredom over my head.
I think I could be safely down-sized.
So here I sit, staring at the walls, with nothing to do, and oh god am I bored! I am going to die of bordeom if something doesn't drop into my inbox soon. Oh yes, did I mention? I am at work. I would love to work, if only I had something to do. To make matters worse, my entire department seems to be missing today, except for me, and I have nobody to gossip with. Nobody to send dumb joke-mail to. Nobody to have lunch with. One co-worker called in sick because she has to study for a night-class. Two other people were here earlier, but have now independently and mysteriously disappeared. Others have just not shown up at all today, I don't know why.
What kind of crazy office is this?? What am I here for? I give the appearance of working, but in fact my efforts at this place are simply to surf the internet for 8 hours or so and write long emails to friends who live in other cities. When I feel like doing something moderately work-related I will delete unimportant emails from my sent folder, and delete the deleted items from the deleted folder. There's something enjoyable about possibly causing myself serious problems down the line by deleting some email that may have been important. Hah. But I can't do that just yet because I am bored and I refuse to do anything fun.
It's the halfway point of the day, and the thought of another 3 and a half hours to spend in this manner is too much. The long empty afternoon looms like a giant axe of boredom over my head.
I think I could be safely down-sized.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The Cure for Boredom
From time to time every kid falls prey to boredom. Boredom is a kid's version of depression. They claim to have nothing to do, act like it's all their mom's fault, and nothing that mom suggests is at all interesting. They just sit there, wilfully bored, complaining of boredom and getting irate about it.
I know the cure for boredom: Have a kid.
Thanks to being a parent, I now have almost no free time. When a tiny window of free time opens up for me, I'm happy to sit and stare at the walls. AHHHH lovely lovely boredom. Bring it on.
I know the cure for boredom: Have a kid.
Thanks to being a parent, I now have almost no free time. When a tiny window of free time opens up for me, I'm happy to sit and stare at the walls. AHHHH lovely lovely boredom. Bring it on.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Old People Are Annoying
Who's first to get on the plane? Old people! Who's supposed to wait until everybody else gets off so that they can be assisted in deplaning? Old people! But who's up in the aisle blocking everybody's way as they try to get off first? Old people!
They've got nowhere to go, so you better get out of their way because they're going right over top you if you don't move. And they're in no hurry, so you better let them go first.
Old people annoy me so much, that when I get old I plan on having an incredible sense of self-entitlement as my reward for a lifetime of putting up with old people.
They've got nowhere to go, so you better get out of their way because they're going right over top you if you don't move. And they're in no hurry, so you better let them go first.
Old people annoy me so much, that when I get old I plan on having an incredible sense of self-entitlement as my reward for a lifetime of putting up with old people.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Folding the Kid's Clothes Could Be Easier
Okay! My husband gets our 4 year old daughter into her jammies at night, and removes her clothes by pulling them off and inside out. I do her laundry and spend too much time turning these clothes back the right way out. And this pisses me off.
Here's the laundry plan in our house: our 10 year old son does his own laundry. My husband does his own laundry. I do my own laundry, plus the 4yr old's, plus all the sheet, plus all the teatowels, plus anything else in the house that is fabricy, of which there is plenty. But that's fine by me, because a few years ago, before I saw the light and got everybody to do their own laundry, I was inundated with it, and spent a big chunk of every day doing bloody laundry. I highly encouraged everyone to rewear their pants and anything else that wasn't too smelly but there were still piles and piles all the time. Now, I do laundry once a week, about 3 or 4 loads.
Everything is peachy except for the huge quantities of little girl clothes that I have to turn and fold every week. Man she makes a lot of laundry. One small hamper contains at least three thousand articles of her little clothing. The girl can't dress herself if the clothes are inside out, so turning them the right way is necessary to getting up and at 'em every morning.
Now, it takes 4 seconds to fold something that's turned the right way. And 11 seconds to fold something that needs turning. Multiply that by three thousand bits of clothing, and we're talking a helluva lot of my life gets spent turning these sodding tiny pieces of clothing the right way out. My husband is incapable of retaining the memory of my asking him to turn things right way out at bedtime. The only thing I can do to make him remember is to make him do her laundry. Heh heh heh. I shall secretly enjoy this.
Here's the laundry plan in our house: our 10 year old son does his own laundry. My husband does his own laundry. I do my own laundry, plus the 4yr old's, plus all the sheet, plus all the teatowels, plus anything else in the house that is fabricy, of which there is plenty. But that's fine by me, because a few years ago, before I saw the light and got everybody to do their own laundry, I was inundated with it, and spent a big chunk of every day doing bloody laundry. I highly encouraged everyone to rewear their pants and anything else that wasn't too smelly but there were still piles and piles all the time. Now, I do laundry once a week, about 3 or 4 loads.
Everything is peachy except for the huge quantities of little girl clothes that I have to turn and fold every week. Man she makes a lot of laundry. One small hamper contains at least three thousand articles of her little clothing. The girl can't dress herself if the clothes are inside out, so turning them the right way is necessary to getting up and at 'em every morning.
Now, it takes 4 seconds to fold something that's turned the right way. And 11 seconds to fold something that needs turning. Multiply that by three thousand bits of clothing, and we're talking a helluva lot of my life gets spent turning these sodding tiny pieces of clothing the right way out. My husband is incapable of retaining the memory of my asking him to turn things right way out at bedtime. The only thing I can do to make him remember is to make him do her laundry. Heh heh heh. I shall secretly enjoy this.
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