Monday, August 6, 2012

Fuck you, Monday. Fuck you right in the ass

Mondays.

 Sigh.

I should have known when I hadn't gone to bed yet and my Monday was already shitty.

I had some laundry that I absolutely had to do so that Jude didn't start looking like the office homeless person (Who smells like pee?), so I went down to the laundry room late last night. And forgot until like 11pm that I had yet to put the laundry in the dryer.

Fuck.

So I told Jude that I would go and put his clothes in the dryer, but that he owed me a nice lengthy, not fucking around (what is this two finger shit?) 40 minute back rub upon my return.

But during my journey, a giant-mutant-raccoon decided that it was going to pop out from the bushes three inches from my feet, look at me long enough to make me almost piss my pants and then run away. So now he owed me an hour.

So I waited and waited and waited... And ended up not falling asleep until after 1am (Thanks for the two minute half-assery, wherein you told me that you would rub my back tomorrow. It's on like Donkey Kong tonight, motherfucker). So needless to say, I did not get enough sleep and I have been just a little grumpy since Jude tapped my shoulder, lovingly and I bit his fucking head off at 7am.

I got up and did all my usual morning ridiculousness. I staggered through the doorway of the kitchen, made us both Barista worthy Cappuccinos, made breakfast for five, changed diapers, went down and retrieved the laundry, etc, etc...

And finally when Jude had left for work, I sat down to drink my cold, two hour old coffee.

Deciding fuck that, I put on another pot of coffee. Only we don't have a regular coffee machine, we have an espresso pot and a cup to steam milk and you put them both on the stove. So I filled up the cup with milk, put the espresso pot on and looked over at a notice.

Fuck! I have to call the State of New Jersey because our tax return got fucked up and despite mailing it months ago, it's still not sorted out.

So I dial the number and of course they tell me that it's gonna be a while. Not wanting to go to prison Wesley Snipes style, I decide that I need to bite the bullet and just wait. And listen.... to the world's shittiest music... that no one would ever voluntarily listen to if not on hold or with a gun to their head (just shoot already, I hate Kenny G).

So I lean over, still on hold and start rinsing out my giant coffee cup out from this morning. The kids start whining for a snack, so I start to tap my feet to the smooth jams (fuck, why do I like this now?), cut them up some fruit and head back into the kitchen.....FFFFUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK!!!!!!

The milk pot started boiling all over the stove!!! And the coffee started shooting out all over the burner. Then my burner bursts into flames. FUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK FIRE!!! Then, "Hello, this is ___________... How can I help you?" So I said, "Oh my God, can you wait a minute?" and took the coffee and milk off the burner. Thinking quickly, I put a pot lid down on top of the flame, extinguishing it. Oh. My. God.

"Hello? Are you there? Hello?!? Hello?!?" I screamed into the phone.

Bitch, I waited fifteen minutes while you probably filed your nails and you can't wait out a kitchen fire for 10 fucking seconds?!?

Fuck me. I guess I will need to call them back.

At least there's coffee.

I clunk down my giant coffee mug onto the counter, spoon in the sugar, pour in some steamed milk, whipped up some cream for the top...

Oh, I forgot, I need just a little sprinkle of cinnamon for the top. So I open the cabinet above my mug for the cinnamon and PLUNK! Red pepper shaker. Straight into my beautiful coffee cup.

I'm going back to bed.
Wake me when it's Tuesday.

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