Happy Easter! In honor of the holiday and all that it represents, I decided to do something different today. Something sweeter and nicer and gentler than my normal fare. Something with rainbows and bunnies.
But then I woke up in my life with my family and lived another day as me.
And so I give you . . . .
TOP TEN REASONS I AM CRANKY TODAY:
1) Two dead salamanders in a small container in my bathroom waiting for drier burial weather.
Kallan has had the salamanders in her room for several weeks, and they seemed happy enough. I checked on them just the other day, and they were fine. So I was surprised when Kallan came into my bedroom carrying two small dead salamanders in her hands.
“They’re dead,” she announced sadly as she shook them back and forth by their tails to demonstrate the cooperative and docile nature of dead salamanders.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Wild animals sometimes don’t do so well when you try to make them into pets.”
“No, I don’t think they minded being pets,” she said as she handed me the dead animals for storage, “I just think that last fashion runway show was one too many for them.”
2) Realized (again) that my pursed lips look very much like asshole.
I read an article when I was a kid that described the process by which doctors can graft anal tissue to lips in seriously injured burn victims. This knowledge and the corresponding mental image has stayed with me and seriously undermined my ability to keep lips moist and kissable with application of chapstick. Once you see your lips as an anus, it is difficult to stay the moisturizing course. Without chapstick, however, lips are drying to the point that anal graft will be required. It’s a vicious circle.
3) Twisted something in my foot so that random unexpected bursts of electric shock pain are being shot through my foot and up my calf.
When I shared the sad news of my temporary painful disability with Mark, he said, “stop shuffling your feet across the carpet and you’ll stop getting shocks.” Which means that either he was not listening AT ALL or he seriously thought I was complaining about static electricity gathered up on our doorknobs. Both possibilities are annoying.
Also, I do not shuffle my feet.
Later though, deliciously, Mark grabbed Jack the smaller bad dog by his shock collar to remove him from his nestled spot in the garbage. As he lifted Jack high in the air to teach the dog a lesson, Jack barked in protest and Mark was shocked.
4) Large bottle of mold-killing tub and tile cleaner sitting out on kitchen counter for last several days. Also on counter? Empty spray bottle and scrubby sponge.
When Mark first took these items out of the cupboard that holds our cleaning supplies, I thought he meant to clean the shower in the master bathroom himself. He is, after all, the only person who uses that shower and the only person who is making it gross.
Now, days later, it is becoming clear to me that all of his innocently phrased questions about the best method and tools required for the job were meant to motivate ME to clean the shower. SO annoying.
5) Mark and girls’ insistence that Easter eggs be turned into deviled eggs.
Last night, when I boiled them, the hard-boiled Easter eggs were delicious and perfect. I know because I peeled and ate one. Today, however, after being handled and dyed and refrigerated overnight and hidden and then found, the eggs do not want to be peeled. The girls and Mark sadly watched as the deviled egg dream died a shredded wretched death in my hands. The consensus on their three disappointed moony faces was that this was somehow my fault and Easter was ruined.
6) Painful blood blister on my hand.
This injury was caused when the protesting, candy-swallowing, smaller bad dog Jack fought for his right to keep Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup he had scored. I managed to pry his mouth open and retrieve the still wrapped and slobber-covered candy from his throat, but he made a last valiant attempt to snap it back out of my hands.
Next time? I’m propping his mouth open with a short strong stick like they do with alligators. And if that fails, I may be making Jack the smaller bad dog into a purse, just like they do with troublesome alligators.
7) Reassuring discussion with Mark about our financial situation in which he told me not to worry so much, and that we are fine.
The resulting state of calm was short-lived, because this exchange followed soon after:
Mark (holding what appeared to be a credit card in the air): “Don’t let me forget about this.”
Me: “What is that?”
Mark: “It’s one of those rebate Visa gift cards, and it still has 29 cents on it. Don’t let me forget.”
Me (returning to panic attack financial state of mind): “Ummmm . . . OK.”
8) Revelation that I should never ever play games of chance for money.
Kallan and I played maybe ten games of backgammon over the weekend, and she beat me in all but one game. As there is a certain random element introduced by the thrown dice, I was a little surprised by this outcome. It was bad enough that my 8 year old daughter was kicking my backgammon ass so regularly; the truth made me feel even more stupid.
After her last victory, a delighted Kallan shared her secret strategy of placing the dice in her cup so that the result she wanted was face down in the cup. She pretended to shake the dice (but really just bumped them into one another) and then carefully poured them out into the configuration she wanted. I did notice that she was shaking her dice quietly, but somehow thought she was being quiet in deference to my leftover migraine pain.
I am such an idiot.
9) Conversation with Maj that I knew was going to end badly.
Maj: “Tickle me!”
Me: “No, you always go all spastic when I tickle you. I don’t want to get hurt again.”
Maj: “Tickle me! I will be careful. I promise.”
Me: “Ok, but only gently.”
I placed my hands on her shoulders and tickled her lightly.
And then she threw her head backwards and bashed it into my chin. Ice packs all round.
10) The missing library book that wasn’t.
Kallan told me on Friday that she had received an email from the library about a book that she had checked out that was about to be due. She said that she had NO IDEA WHERE THE BOOK WAS. It was gone. I told her she had to find it over the weekend or pay for its replacement.
Over the weekend, Kallan and I (and then later, just I) tore this house apart looking for the library book. Looked in the cars, in every room, in every closet, in every drawer, under every couch cushion . . . I LOOKED EVERYWHERE. Finally gave up, defeated, and asked Kallan to go upstairs and print the email out for me so I could check how much replacing the book was going to cost.
And then stared at the email. Dated three weeks ago.
I checked through her email in-box . . . no follow-up emails about the missing book.
Which means the library got its book back. Which means that it’s not missing at all.
Hours of wasted life I will never ever get back. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
And now I think I’m getting a cold.