A Flood of Happiness. OR SOMETHING ELSE.

Sorry there wasn't anything here yesterday, and I kind of dropped the ball on proclaiming a winner of the Name That Tune (CONGRATS ANDY!)-- but I HAD A FUCKER OF A DAY, ladies and gents. A fucker of a day.

First, all heck broke loose at work. Then, I overdid my exercise and could barely move. THEN I got into a... well, hubby and I don't really fight, or argue, but we have disagreements. Which, I think, is harder to deal with than screaming. So we had a disagreement and I ended up walking home in the rain. And THEN, instead of being Mopey McMoperson I decided to clean out my entire closet. And mop the floors. And clean the bathrooms. And pick up the kid's room, which is when I noticed that the carpet in his room (located in the basement) was wet.

Yep. Flooded.

THANK YOU, UNIVERSE, FOR SHITTING ON MY HEART.

So I had to rip up the carpet and pad, try to wring out as much water as I could, and set the fans in there. I think we have to get a new pad, but we can save the carpet. Unfortunately, though, the water is still seeping up from the concrete and in through the walls-- and it's supposed to rain again today.

Accidentally taken while trying to call the landscape company this morning

All this because we had the gutters replaced SO THE BASEMENT WOULDN'T FLOOD, and they didn't finish them yesterday so we didn't call the landscape company to dig out the drainage plumbing since they WEREN'T EVEN FUCKING DONE YET.

DAMN IT. So now we have $1700 for new gutters, $1000 for the plumbed pipes, and $300 for a new pad downstairs ANYWAY, even though we spent $2700 to AVOID THAT FUCKING THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Well, and the undermining of the foundation of our house and black mold. BUT STILL.

Yesterday can go FUCK ITSELF WITH A RUSTY SNOW SHOVEL, which is the only implement I had to dig the pipe area up yesterday in a vain attempt to divert the water further from the house.

Today, you are preemptively ON NOTICE.

Hermit Crab

So, I am not sure if any of you have ever dealt with... well, I will call it "self-help shit" for lack of a better term. You know what I'm talking about-- dealing with demons, facing fears, cleaning closets. That kind of shit.

But if you have.

MOTHERFUCKING WHAT. I mean, how do you deal with it? It is exhausting and draining and... well, more than anything for me, apparently, it is enraging. I mean, I'm doing the baby stepping. I'm not a slacker!

But to me, all of this sifting through feelings and emotions and wading through personal history and... shit... is shit. I get so effing ANGRY every time I try to step forward. Even though I know that what is best for me is dealing with this shit so I don't have to feel broken and fucked up and shitty (I know, I know, I'm not, but that is how I feel, regardless, and anything you say is not going to change that, only going through this process will, and LOOK HOW GOOD my brain knows these things, WHY can my... rest of me... not catch up!!).

Anyway. That is why I have not been around as much. Because I am trying to deal, and I'm not talking about cards. I'm trying to chill, and I'm not talking about A/C. I'm trying to be a rock, and I'm not talking about AC/DC. HAHAHAHA see what I did there?

OK. So I'm still me. But... yeah. It is not the most fun I've ever had in my life.

If Today Had a Theme

AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuughaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

GRRRROWL.

This whole month so far has sucked ginormous baboon balls.

The other day, the kid said that he was "spanking" one of his stuffed animals. Since we have never spanked him in our lives, we started asking questions. Which led to one of his recently hired preschool teachers being fired on the spot.

An excerpt from the letter I typed out for the school records:

After he told us this, we tried not to ask any questions that would lead him to say one thing or another. We asked him if he liked Miss *****, and he said “I like her but she doesn’t like me.” When I asked him why he thought she didn’t like him, he said “Because she spanks me and then she puts me on the naughty bench.” We asked him if Miss **** likes the other kids, and he replied with, “She likes some of the kids, but she spanks them, and she washes their mouths out with soap.” Again, this is a disciplinary method we have never even mentioned in our household, so he would have no idea what it was without an outside source. I asked him what washing your mouth out with soap meant, and he said, “It’s where you have to get soap in your mouth because you said a bad word.” I asked him how it happens, and he said, “Miss **** squeezes soap in your mouth and you can’t swallow it or spit it out and you have to sit on the naughty bench with soap in your mouth.”

WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF WORLD ARE WE LIVING IN. I was so sad that he hadn't told us sooner. That despite all of the sheltering and interviewing of schools and all of that, this happened. And yeah, he said he hadn't had his mouth washed out with soap, although he named a couple of kids who had. And he's three, so I don't know if he even understands the difference between the truth and a lie, but regardless, that woman was not being loving and good to him.

The preschool owner is a wonderful woman, and she hired this girl recently to help while she is on maternity leave. She genuinely loves the kids, and the kids love her. But even that didn't keep the wolves out of the chicken coop.

Sigh.

I am so tired.

I SWEAR

I promise I will post something later today, when my chest pains have slightly abated and I am no longer quaking with stress and suppressed rage.

I KNOW! Don't you want to hear all about it??

Tune in later for all the sordid details, including how I almost killed an employee with my bare hands, how I stand to lose thousands of dollars, how I ended up at the doctor's office and nearly had a heart attack, and how I am surviving all of the things WHILE my mother is in town visiting.

CHEST PAINS.

Unsolicited Advice

More often than not, I find the answers to the questions I have by a) asking someone I consider an expert on the subject, or b) googling it. Usually, the questions I find myself asking are things like "What was the name of that guy that used to work at the book store? You know, the one with the red beard and the improbably hot girlfriend? Daniel? David? I feel like it started with a D? He rode a bicycle and always carried a knapsack?" in which case I would ask a person, OR "Average MLB starter ERA," which is how I would phrase a question for Google, as it requires neither modifiers nor sense in its inquiries.

Point is, if I have a question, I know where to go for the answer. I was a fucking reference librarian, for fuck's sake. That is the whole point of the job. So chances are, all of my questions are always answered.

Why someone would assume that I have questions about the ways that I am doing things when I am obviously not asking them for their expert opinion baffles me. Also, annoys me. No-- PISSES ME OFF.

ESPECIALLY!! Because usually the people advising you are the LEAST qualified people for the job. They are NOT the people I would go to even in the unlikely event that I WERE in fits of despair over my inability to determine the proper course for my actions.

SUCH AS:

1. Woman who abused her children, did drugs in front of them, and had them taken away from her several times, regularly tells me the proper way to discipline, teach, and feed my child. Woman, you are the last person on earth I would ask for advice about child-rearing. If I had cocaine-related questions, though, I hope you know I will come to you.

2. Man who is unemployed and living on welfare after getting fired from his last entry-level job because he threatened to kill a co-worker gives me advice at least once a week on how to run my already successful business. Man, you do not get to tell me how to do this, because I am pretty sure I have a handle on it. If I need to know the pros and cons of working in the fast food industry, you will be the first person I ask.

To these doucheholes: We would all be better off if, when I am not requesting your opinion regarding my life or anything in it, you instead apply to your own life the advice you so dearly wish to dispense. If it works out for you, chances are I'll want to know your secret, and you can share then.

To you, reading this now: ARE YOU WITH ME ON THIS? Or is this one of those things that only annoys me because I am an intolerant bitch?