Monday, June 17, 2013

Today's Complaints

Here's what I want to complain about:

My computer died, so I have to go back and edit work I already edited. I also have to reorganize files. Thirty plus hours of work I lost. Mike hadn't backed up the computer since April!

My son is on summer vacation and the shift in his sleep has him staying up until, well, now. He's crabby and I'm sure the reason he's still awake is that we let him stay up an extra hour. He's on the couch whining and groaning now because I won't let him turn the TV on. Fuck the TV.

My arms and sides hurt where I was trying to show Nick how to hang from and bounce on a dead tree. I was trying to distract him from the agonizing complaining he was doing because I was making him hike on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.

Tomorrow, because Nick is going to be sleep deprived and I'm sore, will be a TV day. Fuck the TV.

Nick's best friend is in Hawaii. I want to be in Hawaii and right now I hate anyone who is in Hawaii or any place like it, unless I get to go some time in the next year.

Mike still hasn't given me a Mother's Day present. And I got socks and a bulletin board for my birthday. I want to go to Hawaii for my birthday and Mother's Day. One trip to cover both holidays will do.

I'm going to have to back up my own files from now on. I don't want to have to bother. I want Mike to do it.

I have three bug bites. I know exactly where they are, but I don't want to have to get up and put goop on them. I'll probably wake up at 2:46 am when they begin to itch even more.

My skin is dry and starting to wrinkle so a suntan no longer looks good on me. Besides, I just finished with this medicine to get rid of budding skin cancer. I really shouldn't have been in the sun the last couple of days, but it was too hot and sticky to put on sunscreen, so I got a little burned. I'm going to have to suck it up with this hot and sticky stuff.

I have an eyelash that's poking me in the eye and until I get up and look in the mirror, it's going to continue to poke me in the eye. It could be a dog hair, but either way it's poking me in the eye.

Nick is shifting around in an angry and impatient way on the couch, as if I'm the one who's causing problems. I hate when I know exactly the message he's trying to send based on his movements along. I'm interfering with his TV time. Fuck the TV.

I'm going to bed. I might feel better in the morning.

Thank you for listening, jules


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