Tuesday, March 4, 2014

I might just spiral...

Normally, I'm not the sort to kvetch on day-to-day stuff.  I mean, nobody wants to read about how "awful" my day was only to think "Bitch, that ain't awful.  THIS is awful..." and proceed to shove how good actually do have it down my gob.  I wouldn't blame them for it, either, honestly.  But if I don't tell someone, I'm going to  just....*pop!* and...I'm just this side of afraid of what that might be.
I started the day in utter hell.  Woken to a migraine I haven't felt the likes of since the day I took the fall.  My entire upper body felt like it was going to wrench itself into new and interesting shapes from the tension and NOTHING made it better.  It was later pointed out to me that I also, probably, was having a caffeine withdrawl headache on top of it, so go figure.

 So I take my painkillers, so they'll hopefully knock me out, and luckily they do.  From 8 am to nearly 6 pm.  I wake again, realizing that the day I needed to get stuff done before hitting the dentist tomorrow was totally shot.  So, I try to get some housework done.  Got the laundry together, went diving for my BFs sleeping mask and the remote for the TV (both of which he seems to think I'm his hunting dog for), and then when he gets up and comes into the computer room where I'm sitting a moment, he asks "Are you hungry?", to which I reply, "I could eat, yeah.".  This is apparently his cue to say "How about a couple sandwiches...".  Not a question, not meant to say "let us both have some" he's saying "why don't you get ME a couple sandwiches" and I could scrounge something up for myself, I guess.  Last night, he was all about getting Chinese take out today, now he just wants a couple bologna sandwiches and to lounge while I do the work.  

So I get him his sandwiches in place of getting mad because at this point, it won't do any good to do otherwise except to ruin the rest of my day.  I then try to do some writing, but our cat keeps thinking it's fucking Dora the Explorer and wants in everywhere we don't want her getting (as difficult as we've made these places for her to get to, she just takes it as a damn challenge) and of course, like her litter box, her food and water, and just about everything other than playing with her and cuddling her he has NO intention of doing anything about that so I get to play defense with the damn cat.  Then he wants dinner and starts talking about wanting Mac 'n Cheese. 

I haven't eaten a thing since breakfast yesterday because he hasn't wanted dinner in two days and outside a few things I've gotten myself to eat that are easy to swallow because I've had 6 teeth extracted recently all the other food in-house is meals, full meals, and lemme tell you, he'll let left-over's rot before he'll pop some in the microwave.  So I have to whip up the dinner he said we'd be having take-out for the night before.  Then, more playing "get the fuck outta there" with the cat, whom I'm almost ready to give one of my father's patented flying lessons.  

By then, my shoulders are starting to ache, my back hurts and my neck is on it's way to going out.  He finally decides that it's nappy time for him, and when I step into the bathroom off the main bedroom, I find that he's not only used the toilet, but not flushed, and our cold water line has frozen again so the tank's empty, meaning he's flushed it once and KNEW it wasn't refilling because he was the last person to use it.  So I have to refill the tank from the shower, flush it, refill the tank again and refill a water jug we keep handy that holds a tank worth of water.  Then use the bathroom, pray that the sewer line hasn't frozen because he didn't flush hours ago (the only thing that keeps it from freezing anymore is actually flushing multiple times daily, even if you're not using the damn thing) and then REFILL everything again.

By this time, he's snuggling into the bed, saying it's chilly (that this polar bear of a human being can think ANYTHING is chilly is a calendar marking event) and I go to do laundry, finally.  I fill the washer, set it and let it run and just as it's hitting the spin cycle, I start hearing gurgling from the pipes in the wall.

I can only think this is one thing and so I do my best Speedy Gonzalez back to the bedroom bathroom and sure enough, the fucking sewer line HAS frozen and now is backing up into the toilet, the shower, the tub, the bathroom on the other end of the house and it's toilet and shower and sinks.  

So now, my back hurts, my neck hurts, I'm frustrated, fortunate that I tossed in several full outfits in the laundry load or I'd not have any clean clothing and stuck here in three feet of snow in sub-zero temps in a house that smells like shit.

Fabulous.  Fucking fabulous.

There are times I feel like I never should have moved out of Seattle, even though staying would have had me homeless in an urban area for the second time.  

Fuck fate.  Fuck destiny.  Fuck karma.  Fuck religion.  Fuck opportunity.  Fuck luck.  Fuck pride.  Fuck hard work.  Fuck everything other than this, very...very essential truth that the universe better damn well take to heart.  

If you give me an afterlife, it's my foot up your ass.

1 comment:

Bill Higgins said...

And I thought I had a "shitty" day with M's dog peeing and crapping in the house at will (which actually says more about M than the dog.) Good thoughts coming your way, sis!