Surly Thursdays
I was a little afraid I wasn't going to be able to summon up a decent amount of surliness, what with my awesome week-end and my extremely painful and stubborn lower-back condition resolving somewhat. Fortunately, then it rained for four days straight and the tendonitis in my right elbow resulted in me using my left hand more which now causes a burning pain to shoot up my left arm every time I move that thumb. Also, my husband left for Australia yesterday and last night my enormous eleven-year-old son hurtled into my bed whimpering in terror because it was raining so hard he couldn't sleep and he was afraid we were going to get flooded (by which he didn't mean the basement might get a little damp, naturally - he was envisioning the army having to airlift us off our roof. Maybe we should stop letting him use that Worst Case Scenario toilet paper). I kept murmuring reassurances, and then just as I would close my eyes and start to drift off he would yelp "was that lightning? Was THAT lightning?" This morning he stumbled downstairs bleary-eyed and said "Sorry for what I did last night. It wasn't a good thing for either of us."
So tomorrow's a P.D. day, I have four kids all day, I have an assignment due by midnight and it hurts to type. Plus I'm supposed to scale rope bridges and zipline and shit on Saturday - who needs two good working arms for that, right?
Nevertheless, I am still thankful. That my daughter has just learned about the sixties and is wandering around saying "Let's change it up, man! It's like the sixties, man! You have to say 'man' after every sentence, man!" That my son kept guffawing at the jokes about 'genitals' in the Big Bang Theory and then looked at me and furtively asked "does that mean balls?" That no one really wants me to stop being snarky - even the universe, clearly, because right after I wrote that post I went to get my hair done and cracked a trashy magazine open and there was Toni Braxton, big as life, talking about her sons - Denim and Diezel.
Thank-you, Universe. Message received.
So tomorrow's a P.D. day, I have four kids all day, I have an assignment due by midnight and it hurts to type. Plus I'm supposed to scale rope bridges and zipline and shit on Saturday - who needs two good working arms for that, right?
Nevertheless, I am still thankful. That my daughter has just learned about the sixties and is wandering around saying "Let's change it up, man! It's like the sixties, man! You have to say 'man' after every sentence, man!" That my son kept guffawing at the jokes about 'genitals' in the Big Bang Theory and then looked at me and furtively asked "does that mean balls?" That no one really wants me to stop being snarky - even the universe, clearly, because right after I wrote that post I went to get my hair done and cracked a trashy magazine open and there was Toni Braxton, big as life, talking about her sons - Denim and Diezel.
Thank-you, Universe. Message received.
Comments
And I *heart* you and your surliness.
Here's my bright idea: bribe the best typists of the four kids to type your homework for you. Pay them in cheetos. That way your arms will be rested for the ziplining.
Also: Worst Case Scenario toilet paper? You say that like it's a...real thing. In the world. *googling*
Maybe Angus could channel his disaster obsessed imagination and write a hit screenplay that he can sell to Michael Bay.
And Marilyn's "Alizon" comment made me guffaw.
I'm loving the surly and all it inspires.