Random Crappy Things.

Today is the five year anniversary of the death of my best friend. You totally missed out by not knowing her, and I’m not just saying that.

For whatever reason, this year seems to be hitting me harder than usual in the “missing Debbie Sue” area and I keep thinking about how awesome she was and how much I miss her. She was seriously an amazing person and her death continues to suck because, like many deaths, it’s NOT FAIR.

This morning I went to make a sandwich and noticed that the meat I was putting on it was.. grey. And crunchy. And expired in mid-November. It also smelled kind of like my feet. No, I didn’t eat it. No, I didn’t feed it to the kids, either.

Speaking of which, the kids are assholes at the moment. They’re off from school, cannot control themselves, fighting like they’re rival gangsters, screaming, throwing things, and injuring each other with reckless abandon. Every thirty seconds, one of them starts crying or yelling because of “what HE did”. Currently they’re in separate rooms because it’s the only way I can keep from knocking their heads together a la Three Stooges and calling them all “knuckleheads”.

The beagle will not stop howling – and howling and howling – because “there’s a cat! a cat! a cat!”. Even when said cat is nowhere nearby. It’s not mean howling, and she’s not being vicious or anything, but it’s shrill and high-pitched and I think I’m going to save up my money and buy some noise-cancelling “airplane landing” ear muffs.

Oldest One wanted to pick up one last gift for Coffee. This necessitated us going to a store. And going to a store on December 22 sucks balls no matter how hard you try to make it “fun” because the store is full of people who are NOT trying to “make it fun” and who are assholes. And so, it was not fun. And people are assholes.

Ho Ho Ho, fuckers.

My stress levels are somewhere around 90 (on a scale of 1 to 10, where 10 is the worst and 1 is the best) and it’s only 3:09 pm which means, no, I cannot start drinking. Not even under the guise of “the holidays!” and not even if I mix it with a drop or two of eggnog.

I have a heap of presents to wrap, my room looks like something exploded, I can’t find anything, I have no clean clothing..

Coffee is at work. He is, in theory, coming home at some point but if he decides to simply flee to another country, I’ll totally understand his reasoning. What’s more fun than coming home to a house full of insane children and a wife who’s feeling stabby?

Seriously, is it OVER YET?