The Shit Fuck Screw Post
Shit:
That's what we woke up to this morning.
The dog woke up around 5 a.m. and started pacing around our bedroom and panting. I nudged Ben and said "your dog has to pee." He got up and took her out, and came back a few minutes later to report she had not, in fact, performed. So we chalked her behavior up to general pain-in-the-ass dog and (tried to) go back to sleep. At almost 6, I gave up and went downstairs to sleep with the cats. At 6:30, I went back upstairs and kicked the dog out of our room.
At 7 a.m., the shit hit the fan. Literally, from the looks of it. Square foot upon square foot of tile, hardwood and linoleum, and where does the dog shit? On the rug in the dining room, and on the shag rug in the living room.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Ben was given specific instructions to obtain a kennel and a bottle of Nature's Miracle post haste, and told that if this happens again, it's going to be bye-bye doggie. I'm not cold-hearted, and I like dogs as much as the next person, but I will not live in a house that smells like dog ass.
Fuck:
We are broke. Not broke like we've been in the past, but broke. Brokety-broke-broke. I have roughly $40 in the bank. I have $45 left on one of my credit cards (at 17.5% interest, to boot). I have just sent the ad litem a check that will max out our line of credit (again).
And payday is 8 days away.
And db's making plans to take Bob to a Chiefs game this weekend, and orders pizza for their Wednesday night dinners together, and spends $35 on school pictures, all while he still owes me $800 in unpaid child support--of which I'm reasonably certain I will never see a dime.
I broke down last night and emailed my dad begging for money. He just called and told me he's putting a check in the mail. Borrowing money from family may not be a big deal for most people, but I HATE it. It's bad enough we owe Ben's mom an assload. And I especially hate having to ask my dad for money, since I ended up screwing him a few years ago (he co-signed on my car loan--single mom + no child support + too many expenses = a few missed payments and lowered credit scores for all). He's cool about it, but I just feel like at almost 35 years old, with a full-time job and one child and an employed spouse and a college degree, I should be beyond the point of having to beg my parents for chump change to keep us in groceries for another week.
C'est la vie, I guess.
Screw:
What we haven't been doing since we moved. I have just been completely uninterested this week. I'm sure it's probably a combination of PMS and exhaustion (mental and physical), but it's bothersome. I like that just-started-dating-type feeling of insatiability. It's highly preferable to my current feeling of haggard-old-wife-and-mom.
And another thing--why oh why must my child respond to my every command with a question? "Why do I have to put my socks on now? Can't I just wait til we're ready to leave?" "Why do I have to brush my teeth at night when I already brushed them this morning?" "Why can't I just leave the light on and not go to sleep for another hour or two?" Why can't you just shut the hell up and do what I tell you to do without turning it into a congressional debate?
Bleah.
That's what we woke up to this morning.
The dog woke up around 5 a.m. and started pacing around our bedroom and panting. I nudged Ben and said "your dog has to pee." He got up and took her out, and came back a few minutes later to report she had not, in fact, performed. So we chalked her behavior up to general pain-in-the-ass dog and (tried to) go back to sleep. At almost 6, I gave up and went downstairs to sleep with the cats. At 6:30, I went back upstairs and kicked the dog out of our room.
At 7 a.m., the shit hit the fan. Literally, from the looks of it. Square foot upon square foot of tile, hardwood and linoleum, and where does the dog shit? On the rug in the dining room, and on the shag rug in the living room.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Ben was given specific instructions to obtain a kennel and a bottle of Nature's Miracle post haste, and told that if this happens again, it's going to be bye-bye doggie. I'm not cold-hearted, and I like dogs as much as the next person, but I will not live in a house that smells like dog ass.
Fuck:
We are broke. Not broke like we've been in the past, but broke. Brokety-broke-broke. I have roughly $40 in the bank. I have $45 left on one of my credit cards (at 17.5% interest, to boot). I have just sent the ad litem a check that will max out our line of credit (again).
And payday is 8 days away.
And db's making plans to take Bob to a Chiefs game this weekend, and orders pizza for their Wednesday night dinners together, and spends $35 on school pictures, all while he still owes me $800 in unpaid child support--of which I'm reasonably certain I will never see a dime.
I broke down last night and emailed my dad begging for money. He just called and told me he's putting a check in the mail. Borrowing money from family may not be a big deal for most people, but I HATE it. It's bad enough we owe Ben's mom an assload. And I especially hate having to ask my dad for money, since I ended up screwing him a few years ago (he co-signed on my car loan--single mom + no child support + too many expenses = a few missed payments and lowered credit scores for all). He's cool about it, but I just feel like at almost 35 years old, with a full-time job and one child and an employed spouse and a college degree, I should be beyond the point of having to beg my parents for chump change to keep us in groceries for another week.
C'est la vie, I guess.
Screw:
What we haven't been doing since we moved. I have just been completely uninterested this week. I'm sure it's probably a combination of PMS and exhaustion (mental and physical), but it's bothersome. I like that just-started-dating-type feeling of insatiability. It's highly preferable to my current feeling of haggard-old-wife-and-mom.
And another thing--why oh why must my child respond to my every command with a question? "Why do I have to put my socks on now? Can't I just wait til we're ready to leave?" "Why do I have to brush my teeth at night when I already brushed them this morning?" "Why can't I just leave the light on and not go to sleep for another hour or two?" Why can't you just shut the hell up and do what I tell you to do without turning it into a congressional debate?
Bleah.
posted by Mitzi Green at 8:28 AM
1 Comments:
I'm 35 and still asking my parents for financial handouts. I've figured it's just the way life is nowadays. Life is so frickin' expensive. I'm 7 days off payday and I'm down to the bare essentials for food. You're not alone. Like you, I should be self sufficient, but then I figure my kids will still be bludging money from me when they're adults so, what goes around will come around!!
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