It’s been a day

September 12, 2005 at 9:28 pm (Daily Dookie, The Enlightening Ones)

This has been a day. Not MY day, mind you, but a day. Here's the highlights:

* There is nothing like waking up shrieking because you rolled over and your back decided you shouldn't have, really you shouldn't have. It announced its decision somewhere around 6 am. I think it's time to go back on continuous meds–even if I had room to work I couldn't anyhow.

Then, after a couple of fruitless hours trying to persuade my back that moving around would actually help it feel better (it didn't believe me and continued to protest), I gave up and spent most of the morning knitting, then trying to nap. Just as I finally settle down for a fitful snooze and a truly annoying dream, what happens?

*HONEY decides I shouldn't be sleeping, I should instead be poised to sprint to my computer, so that within seconds I can either be emailing his resume or printing him a pretty copy. You read that correctly, folks–I woke up from a dream where Honey just could not leave me the fuck alone or give me a moment's peace to him not leaving me alone or giving me a moment's peace…

Me: Uh, Honey? Which are you going to need–email or hard copy?
Him: Um….
Me: Patiently waiting. Patient waiting lasts 3 seconds. Fuck that in the ass without lube. Not-so-patient waiting ensues for the rest of a full minute.
Him: I don't know yet. She hasn't called me back.
Me: You don't know how she wants your resume sent, or even if she wants it sent, but you HAD to wake my quietly snoring ass up? Why?
Him: What were you doing asleep anyhow?
Me: Making up for the fact that I screamed myself awake at 6 am!
Him: Suddenly has nothing to say.

*The irritation grows when he announces that he's unable to reach the person he needs to send the resume to, so could I just send her an email (from an address she's never heard of before) with his resume attached (like no one cares about computer virii anymore and will just hurt themselves in their rush to open an attachment from someone they don't know) so she's got it when she decides to reopen the lines of communication (or just delete the fucker like most people would).

*Supper was the most overcooked steak I have ever seen in my life. I saw this meat before it was immolated–it was yummy, juicy, nicely-marbled and hadn't done one damned thing to deserve being sacrificed to the god Holdupyerhand HereswhereIliveinMI. And it was cut up for me, much like I used to cut Biskie's food when she was tiny. I hate that–not only can I cut my own damned steak, but when you cut it all at once it gets cold before you're done eating it. The plate rested on a hot burner on a ceramic-cooktop stove during the unnecessary carving, and that fucker burnt the shit out of my unaware hand when I picked it up.

*I looked at my fantasy football team's roster. Seems Bufflepup and Javon Walker have something in common–both of them have torn ACL's and won't be playing football this fucking season. Bufflepup isn't on my roster. Fucking Javon IS. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

One nice thing happened today:

*Honey most carefully did not gloat about the Lions win over my precious, sacred Pack yesterday. He's a smart man, who doesn't want to be sewn into his own bedsheets and beaten with his own cast-iron skillet.

I think he chose wisely.

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