Ever have one of those days where it would have been better just to sleep 24 hours and forget it happened?
I’m better at writing things down than trying to talk. I’ll try to keep my mouth shut, but it’s probably best not to promise miracles I can’t deliver.
I finally got to bed again around 6am after a second consult with the sleep fairy called Ibuprofen. The dogs went into “bark at nothing” mode, so I had to walk out, wait for them to follow, then close the door before the cuteness factor shamed me into opening it again.
I justify my actions by saying that if I do it to all the doggies then they don’t feel singled out. Slept from 7am to 10:30am. I may have slept well, but it’s no fun being on the doggie-dodo list. They don’t pee on you while you’re sleeping to get even (like a cat). They look at you with those, “why did you do it, mom” eyes and guilt you to death.
If I could say one word after I woke up that that made any sense, the world might be a more comfortable place at the moment. But it’s not just speaking that’s the problem. As an example, my husband opened the refrigerator door to help me find something. A package of batteries fell on the floor, splattering all around his feet. It would be one thing if he was the culprit who put them there, but the evidence was glaring. When the other fridge died, I moved stuff over to the older one. Those were the batteries from the deceased fridge. Batteries I put on a door shelf without a slat.
Today I’m supposed to look at refrigerators. The way things are going, the one I pick will probably be the power-sucking lemon a disgruntled employee is trying to pawn off on the most insufferably annoying bitch he’s ever met. I’m not sure that’s a crown I’m ready to wear for the next 10 years. There are some contests you just don’t want to win.