Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Blegh. Crabby-muffin award.

Holy cow.  I am crabby.

Crabby.

Crabby.

Crabby.

Maybe it's the 3rd day in a row at home, which really doesn't suit our family well.  I thought it sounded nice and relaxing...we've had such a busy, fun stretch of life...but I'm reminded now why we do so many things.  :) When we don't, we turn into zombies.  And zombie children like to attack each other.  And ask for food ALL THE TIME. Okay, that one might not be about being a zombie.  Just children who need more stimulation.

So I made an early lunch and put them in the eating room.  And escaped to my room to hide.  I knew I was being irritable when Jack told me I might "need some space."  Indeed I do.

The house-showing that was going to happen this afternoon at 3 is now not happening.  And this mind-game of false appointments for house showings is starting to rot my psyche.  If it weren't for my three adorable offspring, I could clean the house the night before and call it good.  But there's an ongoing mess-making happening..and someone could potentially Sharpie the wall or track mud across the carpet at any time.

House showing means:

(1) I actually have to fold my Mt. Everest pile of clean laundry

(2) The stack of dirty dishes has to be washed or put in a laundry basket and hidden in the car (whoops...did I say that out loud?)


A lot more is involved of course...like actually cleaning the entire house, and not just shoving clutter into closets. But those are the two that strike me as most annoying.   When a showing is canceled, I think of those hours wasted late at night folding laundry...when I could have been doing something cool.  Like...not folding laundry.

I suspect I have only a few minutes before the natives get restless, and I might just put them in the car and go to the library.  I have a $25 "damaged item" fine at the library for the History Channel documentary on axes, swords and knives (3 guesses on who watched it)...which...um...was possibly submerged in liquid.  Until I pay it, I can't make online holds or renew my materials.  It's a bit like my right arm was chopped off.  I don't know how to survive without my online library access.  I have little post-it notes of books I want.  So old-school. 

I sent an email to Steve alerting him of my crabbiness, so he can't say I didn't warn him.  But since writing is therapy for me...even stream-of-consciousness venting...I'm actually feeling much better.  I might even exit my sanctuary of a room and see if my Littles need anything...

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