SATC, Revisited

“No matter who broke your heart or how long it takes to heal, you’ll never get through it without your friends.”
-Carrie Bradshaw

Admittedly, I have “Sex and the City” on the brain. I was one of the many millions of women who ventured out on opening night (but not at midnight, mind you) to see the chick flick of the decade. WOB called the other night asking if I wanted to join her and some of her girlfriends for dinner and the movie, and I happily agreed to go. Yes, knowing full well that I only knew WOB, I agreed to go – thinking worst case scenario, I don’t talk all night, and I see a movie without animation. Bromance told me Friday morning that Bigmouth’s wife would be going as well, along with another neighborhood chicky (neither of which was thrilling news, as I don’t care for either of those women!).

However, I found when I arrived for dinner that the two obnoxious neighborhood women were meeting up with us at the theater later, and instead enjoyed a rather peaceful and fun dinner with WOB and her friends. They were a cool group and dinner was filled with laughing and a lot of passing around of cell phones (apparently, one of the women likes to take pictures of herself with her phone… a lot… so, we were looking at her pictures, and everyone else’s – weird).

We ventured to the theater. As you would expect, the place was packed. It was actually pretty cool to see group after group of girlfriends going to the show together. We took our seats and sat back for two plus hours of SATC. My review, if you’re interested: it was alright. If you’re a fan of the show, you will like it. I wanted it to be a little better than it was, but I still enjoyed myself.

Driving home, I thought a lot about friendships. It’s pretty natural after watching Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha for two hours to think about your friendships (or I’m just smoking crack again and am the only one who thinks it might be natural). I don’t have a group of women like this. I have a few close friends, but it’s not like we’re a group. My close friends barely know each other, if at all. It’s kind of interesting to think of having those kinds of people in your life in that way. But, I feel I’m pretty lucky to have my best friend, and she proved it once again today.

Today, we had a birthday party for my kid. I hate throwing birthday parties. I hate having a house full of other people’s children. One little boy in particular was so obnoxious (he always is), that from the moment he arrived to the moment his mother picked him up, my teeth were set together and my jaw was clenched. He was like a yappy dog that humps people’s legs (seriously, upon one guest’s arrival, I swear he was doing the dog-hump. Gross). After his mother picked him up, I turned to my best friend and said: “I bet people are ALWAYS glad to see her. Whe she Comes to GET HER KID!”

My best friend was there. She showed up at two o’clock on the dot, and she stayed long past the last kid left. She helped entertain my grandparents, scoop ice cream, and keep me sane by gossiping with me in the kitchen at every spare opportunity. We’ve been tight since we were thirteen years old. She is the kind of friend that I can look at from across the room, make an expression with my face and she will know exactly what I’m “saying” and will “respond” in turn. She and I have nearly two decades of inside jokes and we’re not afraid to use ‘em. Time has made her a part of my family, and me hers.

Sometimes I forget that I have a friendship like this. I get to feeling sorry for myself about stuff, I can’t see straight, I am bogged down with the stupid shit that life throws at me, and I forget that she’s always been there. Even if she doesn’t agree with what I’m doing, or even if she does. If I’ve done something magestically stupid, she’ll never say so. The two of us may not make for an interesting story line – like Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha – but our Real friendship is every bit as amazing as their fictional one.

Bang the Drum All Day

“I don’t want to work
I want to bang on the drum all day
I don’t want to play
I just want to bang the drum all day”
-Todd Rundgren

TGIF and good morning. Recovering from close encounters of a high school kind last night (no, we didn’t talk – he looked at me and I looked at him from behind the safety of my big sunglasses – gotta love big sunglasses). Today is already reeking of a tremendously busy day, and I’m having trouble stringing words together, if you must know. Tomorrow, we’ll be celebrating my daughter’s birthday with the “birthday party” – and we had to invite my inlaws so I am basically trying to figure out if I can somehow, in the next 24 hours, dig a tunnel that will allow me to escape from the madness and get to my car to take off without anyone seeing me. Hmmm.

I hope everyone has a fantastic weekend. What are your plans? How was your week?

Unanswered Prayers

“She wasn’t quite the angel that I’d remembered in my dreams
And I could tell the time had changed me
In her eyes too, it seemed
We tried to talk about the old days
Wasn’t much we could recall
Guess the lord knows what he’s doing after all…”
-Garth Brooks

Tonight is my kid’s last soccer game. From looking at the schedule though, I realized that the team they would be playing tonight is coached by… the wife of my high school boyfriend. I’m sort of less than enthused about attending tonight.

Seeing as how we both are back in the same small town where we went to high school, and we have children roughly the same age, I have seen him a handful of times in the past few years. He has actually never left the town, and he married a woman who graduated a year behind me. He was the first in my string of stupid boyfriends, and I when I say stupid, I’m not saying it to be bitchy, I’m saying it because he truly wasn’t the smartest boy I had ever dated. This is evidenced by the fact that he is two weeks older than me, and in high school, he was two years behind me.

I’m not saying he wasn’t a nice guy, because he was. He’d give any of his friends the shirt off his back. He was very into mechanics – he taught me how to change the brake shoes on his truck. He also taught me how to play chess and Mortal Kombat. I spent a lot of time at his house, and his best friends became my best friends. There was a posse of guys who had my back, who watched out for me, and treated me like a princess. I thought they looked at me as a sister (a myth that was busted when I broke up with High School Boyfriend, and two of his friends asked me out).

One night, he kissed another girl. I found out. I broke up with him.

Back then, a kiss was a huge deal, and boy I was so hurt by what he’d done. He’d stood by the fact that it wasn’t a huge deal, that he was sorry, that it wouldn’t happen again. I couldn’t take it. He later amended that excuse to tell me that he was freaking out because I was getting ready to leave for college, and I’d be leaving him behind. He was scared, and unsure and basically, typical of a 17 year old guy, just didn’t entirely think it through before acting.

We were civil after that. I have never had the dramatic, full-of-hate breakup, so even when I ran into him a few years ago at a graduation party for my cousin (yes, he’s friends with my family – which compounded some of the awkwardness), we had a great chat. Even my husband had a good discussion with HSB about something (I have no idea what the hell they talked about), and my husband was so frustrated finding out later that he was talking to my ex. But that’s the way it’s been – I can now run into any of my exes and it’s not obvious that we’ve seen each other naked or swapped countless amounts of spit.

But cool as I may be about it, I don’t necessarily relish these moments. Living in this small town, I run into people from the past all the time – and while sometimes it’s fun to catch up, sometimes I’d rather just tuck my head down and walk the other way…very fast.

That’s how I felt this afternoon seeing the wife of an ex-boyfriend at my daughter’s school (and this happens A LOT), or last week running into my husband’s ex-wife as we were both picking up our kids, and how it’ll probably feel tonight, seeing my ex-boyfriend and his family at the soccer game.

As Debi says in Grosse Pointe Blank, “Everybody’s coming back to take stock of their lives. Know what I say? Leave your livestock alone.”

 

Isn’t She Lovely

“Isn’t she lovely?
Truly the angel’s best
Boy, I’m so happy
We have been heaven blessed…”
-Stevie Wonder

Today is my oldest daughter’s birthday and it’s hard to believe I’ve been a mom for six years. I mean, I guess it’s more than six if you start counting at the moment of conception. I don’t really… I mean, aside from the nausea and the fact that I had to cut out caffeine, I was pretty much unaware of her hanging out in my uterus for quite some time… You know, until the part when I had to go get my amnio and the doctor put a needle the length of a garden hose into my uterus via my belly. (That fucking hurt – if you don’t need an amnio, don’t get one). Then I was very aware that I was the host of a little creature.

After the amnio, I found out I was having a girl, and I was able to really start thinking about the whole baby thing. But honestly, I don’t feel like I became a mom until the minute I first saw her and held her in my arms.

Occasionally I get all misty-eyed and maternal and blog about how much being a parent has changed my life and I probably say the same thing every time. That must mean that it’s really very true. Parenting has changed me. My children have changed me. And it all really started six years ago today.

Being a mom means that I can’t always be as selfish as I want to. Being a mom means that I have roots – and that sometimes it feels like a blessing and sometimes I feel shackled. Being a mom means that a part of me is hanging around out there. Motherhood also means that I can milk Mother’s Day for some attention, if not a card and presents, that I get to wipe noses other than my own , that I get to help mold these little people into the kind of adults they will one day be. That’s a huge privilege. It’s also a huge freakin’ responsibility. One that can be overwhelming.

But when I start getting overwhelmed, my kids reel me back to reality. Maybe with a hug. Maybe someone has drawn me a picture and anchored it to the refrigerator with five magnets. Maybe someone has their stuffed whale “kiss me”. Maybe one of them hops around the living room like a kangaroo and calls me “Kanga” to their “Roo”. It doesn’t matter, really, because what it all boils down to is that as much as I’m unconditionally loving my kids – they are giving it right back to me.

Six years ago, I started what has been virtually a nonstop parade of diaper changing (I appear to be in the home stretch on that one, though). I have lost and found my mind a hundred times. But six years ago was an amazing day where I met an amazing kid – who never fails to make me proud of the kid she is becoming. Happy birthday, kiddo.

Everything About You

“And I get sick when I’m around
I can’t stand to be around
I hate everything about you!”
-Ugly Kid Joe

Awhile ago, I bought a book by the Phat Phree called “Look at My Striped Shirt! Confessions of People You Love to Hate“. The reasoning for buying it was that it looked funny as hell, and I really wanted something light and breezy that could be read in bits and pieces (each caricature is approximately two to four pages) and would make me laugh. It fit the bill. I’m not saying it is going to elevate your IQ at all – hell, you’ll probably lose a few points. If you’re easily offended, you may want to avoid it as well (I’m not, so I found it amusing).

The book contains essays written from the perspective of each of these people – the people you “love to hate”. It got me thinking about the people I love to hate. I’m not talking the big indepth hatred (You know, like the rabid pro-lifers who bomb the abortion clinics and kill the abortion doctors – because those people? They suck). I’m not talking politicians (though those people? I hate them too). I’m talking the more surface level hate – the people that just find your pet peeve and trigger it over and over and over again – and are oblivious to it.

For example, I hate most of the doctors in the practice which I attend. One of them is Dr. McCreepy, the guy who when I went in for my eye infection back in winter told me I had very pretty eyes. It was probably not intended to skeeve me out (because really, I do have very nice eyes), but it did. Now, I avoid the guy like the plague. When I took my kid in a few weeks ago, he spotted me from down the hall and waved and yelled “Hi there!”. From. Down. The. Hall. Really? What the fuck. Just ignore me and keep walking.

I hate cranky cashiers who bitch if you happen to have eleven items in the ten items or less lane. Really, I’m not in your line because I’m trying to pull one over on you. If I come into your lane with too many items, it’s probably because I have spaced out on my purchases and don’t realize I’ve gone over. But, honestly, it adds maybe another 30 seconds to the transaction. You get paid whether you’re ringing up my groceries or someone else’s. Chill out.

I don’t like when the secretary of my kid’s school cuts me off on the phone. Or the times when she calls to see if my child is at home, freaking me the hell out when I know my kid got on the bus to go to school. Here’s a hint, woman: My daughter’s classroom is about 100 feet from your office – check there first before calling me at home and making me worry. I can’t believe that woman works around small children.

 Since I’m just being a hater today, I don’t like when people over the age of 10 don’t know the difference between “there”, “their” and “they’re”. Or people who say “on accident” instead of “by accident”. When someone says “I seen” (as in, “I seen him at the grocery store!”), it is like fingernails on a chalkboard for me. I may not always use perfect grammar, but I sure do try. I have been known to go through letters with a red pen and make corrections!

Other people that bug the shit out of me:

• People who don’t use their turn signals
• The guy who lets his dog poop in our front yard (who is the same guy who lets his dog out in the backyard at 4 a.m. even though the freakin’ thing just howls until the whole neighborhood is awake)
• The new guy at Starbucks who keeps making me lattes when I order cappuccinos and then looks at me like I’m on crack when I ask him to re-do it
• People who insist on talking about politics or religion but only to spout their minds – and not actually to hear what anyone else thinks
• People who are chronically late. I know a woman who is almost always 30 minutes late… for anything! It got to the point where I’d tell her the start time was earlier than it actually was just so she would get there when she was supposed to. Occasionally being late, not a huge deal. Habitually? It’s just rude.

For Tuesday, who do you “hate”?

SATC

“That’s the key to having it all: stop expecting it to look like what you thought it was going to look like. It’s true of the fall lines, and it’s true of relationships.”
-Enid

I just arrived home from the first barbecue of the weekend, to which I will totally eat crow and say that I had a really good time and I was bitchy and apprehensive for really no reason. I do that sometimes.

The festivities took place at the home of my husband’s “bromance”. These things always make me squidgy, because I go to these events with my husband with his friends and their spouses and their couple-friends and it always feels like I’m getting suckered into a grown-up play date. I have friends, I don’t like feeling like I have to buddy up to someone. Several of his friends have truly obnoxious spouses (including the holier-than-though mom who only feeds her kids organic foods and has every second of every day planned with some sort of activity, class or craft-making project –which is all fine until SuperMom looks down her nose at me with my cluttered kitchen and kids watching cartoons).

I’d met the Wife of Bromance (known from this point on as WOB, which sounds rather unattractive – but she’s super cute, trust me) before, in fact our daughters are super good friends. I like her on a surface level – “Hey, how you doing?” kind of way, but I don’t know her very well beyond that. Tonight, while our kids were jumping on the trampoline and our husbands were playing bocce ball (don’t ask, I’m not entirely sure why), I sat at a table outside with WOB and one of her friends, shooting the breeze, talking about life, and I had a fantastic time.

The other wife was a newlywed – we’re talking five weeks of wedded bliss – and it was interesting because it seemed that while she had one foot still planted in the honeymoon, the other foot was in marital reality, including bitching about how her husband never does anything around the house. WOB and I found that amusing – I think our hubbies both waited a bit longer than a few months before letting the illusion of these perfect floor-scrubbing, dinner-cooking husbands fade into the crotch-scratching, ESPN watching reality.

We chatted, we dished, we ate and we ate (by the way, I make kick-ass cookies, everyone says so – I wholly stand by the fact that I can work miracles with sugar if only to distract from the fact that I’m only a mediocre cook), we laughed and you know…

It was fun.

I was definitely a glass-half-empty gal about tonight, and I was wrong, and now I have plans for next weekend to join some new friends in seeing “Sex and the City” on the big screen after consuming goofy pink cocktails (that’s the best part).

Sometimes I just need to get over myself.

Besame Mucho

“Besame, besame mucho
Como si fuera esta noche la última vez
Besame, besame mucho
Que tengo a perderte, perderte despues…”
-Cesario Evora

Just a note about the above song – first of all, it’s an awesome song. It’s a classic song. It’s been done by probably 101 different artists. This particular version is on the soundtrack to the movie “Great Expectations” (starring Gwyneth Paltrow and Ethan Hawke). The movie itself was largely forgettable, in my opinion, but the soundtrack was pretty good – including songs by Tori Amos, Chris Cornell, and even Grateful Dead. Good stuff. By the way, “besame mucho” is Spanish for “Kiss me a lot” – which is useful to know, yes?

 This week was chaotic, crazy, and crazy-making – that is for sure. By midweek, I was ready to check myself into the funny farm, but didn’t. In just two short weeks, school will be out for the summer, and I have fears about how I’ll be going apeshit playing full time cruise director to two kids. With the Tall One out of school for the summer, I’ll be pulling the Small One out of daycare. I’ve hired a Mother’s Helper to come one day a week so I can get some work done and preserve some of my sanity, but I’m nervous nonetheless. I’ve gotten used to having those two days per week to regroup, and I think without it, I will be ready to jump out a window.

This week I also decided to quit waiting for the thyroid medication to kick in. My Lameass Thyroid™ has caused me to gain several pounds, and while I have accepted that they’re there and it’s not really my fault, I don’t like them, they can’t stay and I’m evicting them. They gotta go. So I took some drastic measures…. I added running to my workout routine. My husband said you can’t really call it running, on account of… well, I’m not going super fast. But I call it running and it TOTALLY counts because when I’m done, I’m exhausted, dripping with sweat and I am convinced I am burning a million calories in the process. I’ll head back to the doc’s on Tuesday to have some blood drawn and we’ll see then, I guess, if the medication is sending my levels in the right way. I still feel totally crappy like I did before, so… it’s anyone’s guess really. On the plus side, I don’t think my extra pounds have gotten any new friends in the past month, so that has gotta count for something.

The rest of the holiday weekend involves much grilled food and socializing – one event with my husband’s “bromance”, the other with my family. That’s a lot of barbecue (and to be honest, neither of these events will have particularly good food – my mother and her husband are the WORST GRILLERS EVER). My husband is off to spend the morning on the golf course, and I’m hanging with my kids on mom duty, per usual. Whatta weekend.

 

Dear God

“Dear God
Don’t know if you notice but
Your name is on a lot of quotes in this book,
Us crazy humans wrote it you should take a look
And all the people that you made in your image
Still believing that junk is true
Well I know it ain’t and so do you…”
-Sarah McLachlan

I’ve mentioned here before that I’m not a super-dee-duper religious person. While I don’t live in the Bible Belt exactly, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that I live in the land overrun by churches and farms and that the majority of the people I encounter in my day-to-day life are quite involved with their churches and their religions and their beliefs.

Do not mistake me: This is more than okay (Listen to me, “this is more than okay” – as if anyone was asking my permission!).

Let me try that again – for people who have found religion and have found it comforting and have found that it’s added to their lives – well, I applaud that. I think we should all take happiness wherever we can get it, grab it and hang on to it. If having a church family brings joy to someone, by all means, pursue that.

Personally, it has never been like that for me.

 I’ve always felt that my way was okay too. I’m certainly no heathen, I wouldn’t think. I’m not skanking around, I’m not devil-worshipping, I’m not telling my children to be bad people, I’m not being a bad person. I just don’t find church and religion comforting (except when I’m on a plane, in which case you can’t get much holier than me, which makes me a big fucking hypocrite and I accept that). I feel that I live my life in a way that shows people I’m kind, I’m caring, and I’m pretty genuine.

Part of what has turned me off about church and religion has been the amount of hypocrisy spewing from it all. Some of the nastiest people I have met have happened to be regular church-attendees. My husband’s ex-wife spouts religious sayings at the drop of a hat (and even has a crucifix prominently tattooed to her person), but she can be one of the most conniving, dishonest people who ever walked. When a person’s actions and words are so far apart, it’s a tough line of bullshit to swallow. There’s a saying that going to church doesn’t make one a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car – to which I say… “AMEN!”

My husband is probably even more skeptical of religion than I am. While I feel that I am a spiritual, though not religious, person, he is neither spiritual nor religious. And that’s fine. He grew up attending church of his own choosing, and decided in his adult life that it wasn’t for him. That’s cool.

As a result of the way we both feel, we do not attend church now, nor are we raising our kids to follow any particular religion. We have both discussed and decided that when our daughters are older, we would explore whatever spiritual avenues with them that they desired. Should they wish to visit a Buddhist temple, or a mosque, or [insert place of worship here], we would be on board, and would do our best to facilitate the exploration of faith free of judgement.

As it is, my oldest kiddo is probably in the minority among her friends, many of whom regularly attend church. As we found out this week, for the second time in as many months, a friend told my kid that if she did not pray, she would go to hell.

I’m fucking pissed.

To avoid the mommy-blog trap here, I don’t talk about my kids a whole ton – but she’s just a kid. She’ll be six years old next week, and her friends are all five and six-year-olds. The thought of these kids banging their figurative bibles on my kid’s head really frustrates me. My mother’s response has been, “If you aren’t teaching her religion though, what do you expect?”

I don’t know.

I guess I expect other parents to do as we have done – to let their children know that we are not made by cookie cutters here on this planet. We have the freedom of religion which means that we can believe whatever we want, worship however we want, and what’s right for me may not be right for you. My daughter asks us why they say these things, and we tell her that her friends are entitled to feel that way. It strikes me as interesting that these kids have focused on the fact that not praying equates to a one-way ticket to the eternal fires – rather than on say… being a kind and good hearted person.

I wish I knew what to say to my daughter to take the sting away. I wish I knew what to say to these parents because in my opinion, something needs to be said. It’s a touchy subject, and I know it. For now, I just focus on doing the best I can for my kids to make it right.

Grace is Gone

“Excuse me please, one more drink
Could you make it strong ’cause I don’t need to think…”
-Dave Matthews Band

As I type this, I have just made myself a pretty drink with my friend Absolut. I hear my kids still making noise upstairs, and I’ve been so exhausted from the day – no naps were taken, no coffee consumed until the day was damn near over, work stuff got chaotic and ugly again for what feels like the ten-thousandth time this week. My husband and I had a tense exchange of words, which seems to have now been fluffed over and ignored but my head was all over the place when I went outside to grab some cardio. Forty-five minutes of walking around wondering what the hell is going on lately.

So, yeah. I’m into my Absolut. Just one. That’s it and then I’ll go complete the drowning of my day in a bubble bath (if these kids ever go to sleep!).

For the most part for me, work is smooth sailing. I’ve got a pretty decent gig, a nice routine. It tends to be drama free. In the past few weeks, I’ve come pretty close to having to fire a vendor, and I’m scouting new ones. On top of that, I’m having to deal with the fallout of my shitty vendor – it’s increased my workload exponentially, and it’s increased the number of cranky people I have to deal with. Most of the cranky folks are customers, and I do alright at being nice to people like that even though I’m secretly wondering if they are all sniffing glue while we speak because some of them seem like they may be short a brain cell or two (or considerably more). Today, I had to speak with someone from a different branch of my company, and she went off on me in a tirade that I could not even respond to (though I was IM’ing a friend saying, “I think I could well bitch slap this woman!”). In the midst of her rant, she put me on hold and the call reconnected with her boss apologizing to me for this woman yelling at me. She’s apparently emotionally, and often set off with little provocation. And you have her working with the public? Really? Seems like sort of a not good idea.

I’m not a confrontational person, so I just don’t get it when people get this way. I tend to sorta hang onto it and absorb it until finally I’m in bitch mode because of all these other people.

Frankly, it’s lose-lose.

Dealing with the husband drama didn’t help matters either. My sister had told me something in confidence a few weeks ago – she specifically ask that I say nothing to anybody. So I didn’t. Today, she spilled the secret to my husband, and he came home somewhat pissed that I had kept it from him. I don’t see how I’m wrong here – he later tried to play it off like he didn’t care, but he did. When someone asks me to hold something in confidence, I do. I don’t believe that because he’s my husband, he’s not included in the “don’t tell” camp. Sigh. So he was mad about that.

Then we had those tense words about something else. It was the kind of conversation where we both had smiles on our face, like, “See, we’re just kidding! Ha ha ha!” when in reality, I think we were both pretty serious, and trying to play things off. It’s been hard lately. Of all my friends, we’ve been married the longest (with a few exceptions) – whether or not a rift at any point is common, I’m not sure. Just feels like we’re having a hard time finding time for each other. The thing is, I’m so independent, I just work my life around it. If he’s not here, I don’t sit here twiddling my thumbs missing him – I just keep on keeping on. I think he wishes I needed him more. I don’t really know how to need someone. Needy is not something I’ve ever wanted to be. I just got off the phone with him and it was fine, and it will be fine – it always is somehow.

Of course, everything is a little finer at the moment.

Note: I realize I’ve been more than a little scattered and random today. Here’s hoping I can get my head glued back together tomorrow.

Most of the Time

“I am crazy most of the time
But I’m simple in this restless mind of mine…”
-Tristan Prettyman

 It’s a Friday morning, and I’m relieved not only for the end of the week but for the three day weekend. When your paying job is twenty hours a week part-time, and you have an eight hour holiday – well, that shortens the work week considerably. Excellent.

Today finds me exhausted, cranky and my mind is churning at warp speeds and really coming up with nothing but the same thoughts over and over again. I guess this is just going to be unbelievably random today – something I limit for Sundays, usually. My husband woke me up at 1 in the morning – I hate being woken up in the middle of the night – it takes me forever to fall back to sleep. When I did fall back to sleep, I ended up having some weird dream that I had consumed excessive amounts of alcohol and somehow ended up a party in some group sex mess. Don’t get all excited because I don’t remember any of the actual smutty details- because as in my dream, I was unaware that it had taken place until the next day when someone told me. I don’t know that I knew anyone else in my dream - in my dream, they were friends of mine, but… no one I know in real life (which is good – I really hate having sex dreams about people I know, because then I’m always wondering what the hell it means… unless I know what it means – and sometimes I do know why I’m dreaming of that particular person - whoever it may be).

I woke up before six because my husband had not shut the curtains to our room last night and light was flooding into our room. Oddly enough, we had gone through this discussion Wednesday night – I shut the curtain and he gave me shit that I was paranoid that someone was going to peek in our windows. For the record, I’m not paranoid. It’s a second floor room, there is no one across from us, and I highly doubt anyone thinks we’re interesting enough to prop a ladder  up to get a peek through our open curtains. I explained at the time that I didn’t want to wake up to the early morning sun (I really hate starting my day before 6). Then he promptly forgot. Of course, I would have shut the damn curtains myself if I had noticed they were still open – as it was, he was snoozing when I went to bed last night. I was trying to get ready for bed without turning the lights on or making much noise. Hence, the curtain was far from my mind.

Short story long, right?

This means that it’s early on Friday and I’m exhausted. I went to bed too late, I was up for an hour plus in the middle of the night, and I woke up insanely early. I have already started my caffeine consumption and wish to hell someone would open a coffee shop that delivered (Business idea: Steal it and then move to my neighborhood, would ya?). It’s sad to know before 9 a.m. that the day is already a pretty sucky one. I’ve already gotten pissed off at my husband for waking me up (funny, he falls right back to sleep no problem), and it just feels like it’s going to be a really shitty day.

Here’s hoping I can turn it around.