Once again, my life can be summed up in the sound of a forehead repeatedly hitting a desk.
- Common sense FAIL: So, I gave up coffee for a week, to test whether it was the culprit in the OMG WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS GUT ROT sweepstakes. I was drinking tea all week long, and while I like tea, and it is tasty, it is NOT THE SAME. Tea for me? Is an afternoon/evening beverage, while coffee is The CreamyDelicious Vanilla-Flavoured Morning Beverage Of The Gods. But, I was drinking tea, and it was going well, although I WAS NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT. I wasn’t feeling ill three-to-four hours after I finished my last cup, as I was with coffee. No pain, no nauseated feeling. It was good. So, this morning, I got up and I was tired and peevish, and thought SCREW YOU STOMACH LET’S JUST SEE. I made a big mug of coffee-press coffee. I made sure there was lots of vanilla soy milk and creamer in it. It was warm and tasty. I was happy. Until about three hours later when my stomach went OH MY DOG ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME YOU BASTARD. So, I guess that answers THAT question, now doesn’t it. Back to tea in the morning. And maybe one last try of the nice organic free trade coffee I was drinking last fall, to see if the brand/quality makes any difference.
- Nature FAIL: Okay, so this one’s not ALL on me. Last year, we had a nest of hornets decide to take up residence underneath a gable on the back of our house, in the insert-house-name-part not-siding-or-flashing-or-eaves-but-something-like-that. We spent the better part of the year looking at this cluster of hornets, feeling horrified, and not knowing what to do about it. Research and Interwebs told us that they’d die off over the winter and we’d be done with the problem, so rather than risk life and limb and bee sting going out and spraying or bombing the little winged fuckers, we just thought we’d let nature take it’s course. Well… CUE WARM WINTER. And so, I went out there this morning, and there are aggressive hornets fighting to the death on the patio, and a cluster more of them in the Same. Damned. Spot. So, we have hornets. AGAIN. So I messaged BDH today that we have to deal with this. And, because neither of us knows squat about hornets other than OMG PAINFUL, we may have to hire a professional to come and do the job good and proper. And then seal the entire house up with silicone or something.
- Restraint FAIL: I am trying to slowly change my lifestyle. Really I am. I am learning from the lessons of the past, and slowly incorporating exercise into my daily routine (instead of the usual go-hard-OMG-WHAT-THE-HELL-IS-THIS-INJURY thing I do every year). And it’s been going well. I get up in the morning at WTF IS THIS o’clock, get on the machine of choice, and exercise. I have been very, very gradually increasing the intensity to keep my knees happy. And so far, it is working. SCORE! Except now, I’m all of a sudden ravenously hungry. MUST EAT ALL THE THINGS. And this week? I’ve gone to town, man. I cannot seem to get enough of anything. It’s not good. Tasty? You bet your sweet bippy. But not so good with the fitness regime.
- Maturity FAIL: I was at the grocery store this morning. And at intervals along the sidewalk along the side of the store, there are ramps so that people with carts, strollers, wheelchairs, whatever, can easily access the parking lot. So I parked beside one today, and as I was coming out after finishing my shopping, with cart full of groceries and Stinkerbelle, an old man was signalling to turn into park RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE RAMP. And not only that, he’s gesturing at me to hurry my ass out of the way so he can park there. So I move, slightly, and he squeezes into the non-spot, leaving, like A FOOT between our cars, and gets out and makes like he’s going to lecture me. And I UNLOADED on him, and told him IT’S NOT A PARKING SPACE IT’S A RAMP YOU FUCKING DOUCHE. I don’t think he expected that, because suddenly he was all “I’m only going to be five minutes!” And so I said IT DOESN’T MATTER IT’S A RAMP YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO PARK THERE YOU GIANT DOUCHEBAG. Now, the man is of a different ethnic group, so I doubt the phrase “douchebag” is familiar to him. But, I can assure you, when a big pissed-off looking woman is telling you off, you can infer what you don’t understand. So, he went in and I loaded my car. A few minutes later, he came out as I was backing out. He was all smiles and gesturing to me, so I rolled down my window and he was all “See? I was very quick. It was an emergency and…” At which point I cut him off with IT DOESN’T MATTER IT’S A RAMP FOR CARTS AND HANDICAPPED PEOPLE AND YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO PARK THERE AND BLOCK IT THAT WAS A DOUCHEBAG MOVE. And I drove away to him shouting something about if there were a handicapped person he would pick him up… Anyway, I probably should not have engaged him, but oh well. And I MAY have dinged his door. A couple of times. Possibly. Well, I had to get into my car.