It's a conspiracy.
Monday, October 03, 2011
This blog is for me. It is venting, and it is whiney but flavored with sarcasm. Yum!
So I know it's not likely that I get my walk in during a Payroll Monday at work. Too much stuff happens and I just am practically chained to the desk putting out fires.
BUT...I figured I had most of my chores done Sunday, I could just jump in my clothes and be ready to come home and walk the pooch after dropping off the kid at the pool.
I drop the kid off and am enjoying the brisker weather immensely on the ride home. It's one of those scenes at the beginning of a horror film, everything is just so frakkin picturesque that you just KNOW something is going to happen.
I walk in on Tension, Terror and Sobbing. No really. Monster Tween has angered Explosive Dad and gadgets were confiscated because kid could not find suit and was playing on Ipod before my arrival.
I shove Explosive Dude out of the way, toss suit at kid (really, no one could have called to ASK where suit might be?) Stubborn, short-tempered Aries, the both of them...*insert more domestic grumbling* Anyhoo, suit got put on, we race to truck with hitched breaths and hurt feelings.
I try to re-experience drive home as it's a lot of backtracking from when I first came home. I am noooot quite successful but am determined....DETERMINED to get in a walk, a long one.
Just as I'm walking up my drive from getting the mail, kind of grinning to myself because I know I'm getting out of making dinner for Explosive DH before he leaves for work by going off to take care of myself. Tee Hee...right?
My phone rings. It's my mom, bless her. She just got home and her garage door is open and she is too freaked out to go inside. *sigh* I mean I understand the issue but you just KNOW that the door popped up because of a sensor thing. You gotta know my mom. "Did you see it close this morning?"..."Yes, I saw it close." ..."All the way down."..."Of course, all the way down." ..."Did you give it that extra second to make sure it stayed put?"..."I can just wait in the backyard until you're done with your walk."
Did I mention she raised me Catholic? Yeah...master of the passive guilt.
So I climb back in the truck and head that way...I'm ALLLLLMOST there. My phone rings. I see it's Coach. Boo is having an asthma attack and his inhaler is of COURSE not in his bag. (yes, Mr. Big Insurance company, I really do need five of these things, it would make my life so much easier.) I talked to the kid and he didn't sound too bad, but I can tell something is definitely not right, so I tell him to sit out and I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm calculating....it's not looking pretty. I figure maybe...MAYBE I can call back and see if his lungs relax on their own (they usually do) and he could just swim easy laps.
Meanwhile back at the spooky garage door. I drive up, bolt from the truck as I now know I've got another circuit through the city to save the day. I grab a huge screwdriver as I'm headed through the garage with my mother hollering...wait...waaaaaiiit. We check all closets, under beds, behind shower curtain (yeah, saw that scary movie.) Nobody and no valuables missing. I head back to garage and notice a niiice long strand of ivy creeping past the door line. As I raise my hand to hit at the door button, I drop my phone. It's about 8 feet down some steps to the concrete floor. It was a bad hit. I cringe. I hit the button, the door drops....yeah, you guess it. Squishes ivy, ivy pops up and PRESTO WHAMMO sensor is triggered and the door heads skyward. The I told you so was harder to keep in than the belch after an ice cold Dr. Pepper. I pick up my phone and yes....it's dead...not even zombie half-life kind of dead. Just. Dead.
Really, Life? That's a lot of suckage just then. I mean, you KNOW I was waiting for the next iPhone release...that me and my beloved Ericsson were limping by...and you KNOW how sketchy Apple can be about actual release dates (yeah, I know 10/14, but I've been burned before) and how uncomfortably naked I can feel driving a vintage car with no means of communication.
So now I can't check on kid because I can't call from land line because my brain is lazy and I don't have coach's contact info memorized. I have to drive home, get the inhaler, and drive to the pool.
Walk is done for. I know this. Resentment is already planning a menu. I won't lie, when I got home, I grabbed a cookie and there may have been candy at work (yeah, you know there was.) This is self-destructive but I did it and it's done but I saved face by walking the dog anway after dinner, on a much shorter route, but he didn't seem to mind. I'd like to call that a victory but it was more of an immature "neener neener" but better than an "I give up."
I'm not even going to mention the resentment from the bike purchases Friday...I'm not. It's so not pretty. For brevity's sake...came home...realized man had bought himself a carbon fiber two wheeled vehicle worth more than the entire furnishings of our living room. Possibly more than the blue book on vintage Stealth. Did not include one for me...had to go back and get one for the wife...cause I was done being the shortchanged afterthought. It's the financial equivalent of eating a cookie cause you're pissed. At least I can sell this cookie if we bike towards Splitsville. (Not really serious, but the wound is fresh, and I'll pick that scab til it bleeds.)
So, Life, if you are listening and you'd better be listening...it's not funny anymore...I'm going to bed...and I'm going to dream blissfully about Ryan Reynolds and his abs...and I'm going to be rested enough to get in some form of exercise in the a.m.
Then, dear Life, you are going to tap on the Tech Geek's shoulder as if you are his Guiding Angel and convince him that since I'm a loyal customer, that I should be given a loner phone until I get my beloved and long awaited iPhone ( a planned purchase, omg, what is THAT *smacks bike resentment back into it's hidey hole*) I will gladly pay whatever monthly phone service fees I normally do, but do not wish to committ to contract pricing until that purchase can be made. THEN, Life you will do the same shoulder tapping to the big dogs running the show at Apple and tell them to hurry the FRAK up, because my car is not trustworthy...mmmkay?
*punches pillows until they are fluffy, D@mmit.*