All-of-a-Sudden VERY SURLY THURSDAY

First of all, apparently my Wednesday should have been a little less wordless, because LOOK AGAIN people - he's been taller than me for years, the funny part is that we're WEARING THE SAME COLOURS. I can't even pull off a decent internet sight gag. Sigh.

This Thursday totally didn't start out surly. My husband was away Monday and Tuesday and baseball season has started and naturally Angus's two games were Monday and Tuesday, I still haven't gotten new orthotics and I needed to get Angus's laundry done and suitcase packed for his grade 8 trip to Quebec City AND I volunteered for Eve's class's field trip to the Science and Tech Museum ALL DAY Wednesday, so Monday through Wednesday were a solo-parenting, running-up-and-down-the-stairs, sweaty, overtired, carbo-loading blur (oh, except I had a lovely walk through the tulips with Pam on Monday, shut up, don't interrupt my rant, right after the tulips things got VERY DIFFICULT). Today Angus is IN Quebec City, Matt's home (until Saturday, when he leaves for a week in Mexico), the field trip is behind me and I had tea at the lovely and pretty and serenity-inducing Thimble Cafe with a fabulous blogging friend and a radiantly pregnant-with-twins friend. I felt pretty, even.

Then I picked up some groceries and came home and then BAM, sudden EXTREME CRANKINESS descended, or bubbled up, or something. I offer you a rosary of small vexations:

I hate that goddamned Happy song. I find it insipid and annoying. I have told this to my kids and they looked at me like I shot Bambi and made hasenpfeffer out of Thumper. So much for a frank and open exchange of ideas.

Angus used my computer for a school project and has infected me with some kind of digitally transmitted disease and now shit keeps popping up and taking over - I try to do one thing and some obnoxious blaring screen demands that I download a new video player, I try to do something else and Kim Kardashian and weight-loss ads eat up the screen -  and I have to call a priest or a nerd or someone.

When we were driving to the Spiderman movie last Sunday my husband was trying to change lanes and this guy wouldn't let him in, and he was on the right and I was in the passenger seat so he was really close to me as he passed us, and I yelled "you deserve that nose!" Then I said "I'm sorry, that was unkind." But now I take it back, plus the window was up and he couldn't hear me anyway so fuck him and his giant schnozz.

photo by Thoth God of Knowledge

Then we passed a giant Tim Horton's billboard and made fun of the "kettle chips...served warm" thing. I mean, come on. They're potato chips. Not fresh-cut fries, not twice-baked potatoes, not made on the premises. Just potato chips nuked in the microwave. Do we look stupid, Tim Horton's?

Then I read a thing on the internet that made me stabbily enraged, which I realized was stupid because it's a fairly small issue and I don't even know why it's a hot-button thing for me, and I have resolved to not write a post about it until I'm in a less assholish frame of mind. I apologize for vagueblogging, but trust me, it's for the best.

I just realized that those two paragraphs both started with "then", even though one thing took place tonight and the other thing took place four evenings ago, which proves that I can't be trusted with a computer or basic chronology right now.

I decided that maybe a little Netflix was in order. But I couldn't find my queue, so I just picked the first scary movie I saw. Big, big mistake. Huge. It was an independent film, which sometimes means quirky and refreshingly non-Hollywood and sometimes means badly acted, indifferently scripted and grating beyond belief. Also, it was really, really gross. There was gross eye stuff and gross fingernail stuff and gross menstrual stuff and so I fast-forwarded through large chunks but watched the end and people, I shit you not, maggots dropped out of a vagina.

So I winged my ipad across the room and picked up a library book - The Best American Noir of the Century. You know what kind of adjectives describe noir fiction? Grim. Nihilistic. Merciless. Bleak. Eve came home from school and asked what was for dinner. I said ashes and despair. She said she'd make herself a grilled cheese.

OH, the other thing is that I've only been reading one book the last few evenings because it's an ebook from the library and it's expiring soon, and it sounded really interesting and I'm only about a third of the way through it and I HATE it so far, and I keep waiting for it to get better and it hasn't. And I'm still constitutionally incapable of quitting a book, so maybe the fact that it will probably expire before I finish it is actually a good thing.

Also, I've been eating crap. A lot of it. While partly standing outside of myself going "what the fuck do you actually think you're doing right now?", with a bemused expression.

So I didn't buy chips while grocery shopping today.

This has the unfortunate by-product of resulting in there not being any chips now.

I hate this day so. much.