I am having one of those days where I seem to be on the go and busy all day, but investigation of the activities that have kept me on the go and busy all day is completely boring and depressing: I spent an hour grocery shopping and half that time putting the groceries away, I changed all the sheets and did four loads of laundry, it took me twenty minutes to clean up the dog’s fecal matter in the backyard, all the while I was marvelling at the sheer volume of said fecal matter. I became extremely excited at the arrival of my new compression stockings, and I realized that I myself have become boring and depressing, due to my obsession with my freakishly bad varicose veins and impending surgery. I’ve become like someone’s elderly aunt at a family dinner; the one who regales the company with tales of her varying, and revolting health complaints. Will you have some more salad, Aunty? No dear. Remember my irritable bowel? Well, raw vegetables really inflame it. Well, would you like some dessert? No dear. Remember my acid reflux? Sugars repeat on me all night long. Of course, I don’t sleep anyway, due to my restless leg syndrome and hemorrhoids.
Well, it’s Friday. The upside of not drinking wine during the week anymore is that by the time Friday comes around, I’m delirious with anticipation. So I’m drinking wine right now while writing, because it is 6:30 and I just couldn’t wait any longer. Also the boys are performing science experiments with vinegar, dish soap, baking soda, and polyacrymolide crystals and, much as I love their scientific curiosity, by this time of the week such experiments feel very draining to what is left of my energy and sanity.
Last night my husband, after a trying few weeks at work, announced to me that his new goal is to become a complete asshole. How does one respond to that? I informed him that he probably has already reached his goal; after all, if one’s GOAL is to become an asshole, that probably indicates that you already are one.
Speaking of assholes, over the past two days I have witnessed no fewer than ten cars get stuck in the exact same spot in the exact same snowbank in the alley behind the school. This week has seen a reprieve in the cold weather, and so the deep drifts have become soft and treacherous. The first person I witnessed getting stuck was a friend of mine – NOT an asshole, I hasten to point out – and I sprinted over to help push him out. He, and another dad who was assisting, vehemently protested against my help. The neighbour who was spectating announced loudly that I was going to injure myself. I’m not sure if I emanate an aura of extreme fragility or extreme incompetence, but in any case, I steered the car as the guys pushed. Ah, chivalry. I do appreciate it, although I have to remind my readers that I once fixed the gutters BY MYSELF in the pouring rain. I am woman, hear me roar, and I am capable of pushing cars out of snowbanks. I have also, on very rare occasions, mowed the lawn, although while growing up my father was concerned that if I operated a lawnmower I would surely sever my own foot off.
I’m guessing this is enough tipsy randomness for one night. I am off to pour myself another glass of wine, and possibly unclog some test tubes – in the writing of this post the experiments seem to have become ever more rowdy. Happy Friday to you all, and stay tuned for next week’s posts where I will discuss a friend’s recent discoveries of her old copies of Sweet Valley High (remember the Dairi Burger?) and another friend and her school’s suspect fundraising endeavours. Cheers!
Lol! I am so glad you are enjoying your wine! Sweet Valley High, I remember those books. Here’s hoping your head doesn’t hurt too much tomorrow morning!
You project a vibe of extreme thinness — maybe they just didn’t look past that to the yoga-induced muscularity. Funny, I asked my husband if he was TRYING to be an asshole today and he claimed he wasn’t. I guess it just comes effortlessly to some men. Poor R — tell him to keep striving.
Love the randomness! Did you know that a new Sweet Valley High book is coming out!!! Can’t wait!
My husband is very interested in your husband’s goal of becoming an asshole. I hope I haven’t given him any ideas from reading him this.
I love this post so much, I am starting this comment when I’m not even halfway through it, because I just feel So! Enthusiastic! about
1. the old lady talk
2. the weekend wine
3. the draining experiements
4. the already being an asshole
5. the word “rowdy” used with a science experiment
Also, after recently replacing a furnace filter myself because I was so tired of asking Paul to do it, my theory is that men don’t want women to do their tasks because they don’t want us to know how easy they are.
Discuss: Aunty versus Auntie. We were always an Auntie family. All my many, many aunts signed their birthday cards with Auntie. I’m doing an Auntie thing myself. Are we freakishly weird? Is this one of those things our children will bring up in therapy?
So funny! You should blog while tipsy more often. Very entertaining.
Love, love, love your response to your husband when he announced his goal of becoming an asshole.
I hate (with a passion) those compression stockings. After vein surgery, you’re supposed to wear them whenever you fly. Because of being stranded at the Munich airport because of that damn volcano last spring, I had them on for two days straight. I was in SUCH a bad mood.
I LOVE your husband’s goal. I think I might borrow it.
And I am sitting here, oh wine sister, blogging and having my first glass of wine which I totally deserve because I have been at a soccer tournament all. day. long. I really hate being a soccer mom.
And I, too, pride myself on my kick-ass strength. I may be a small girl, but I body pump and I’ve got guns. Push a car out of a drift, hell yeah! Open up a jar of factory sealed anything, I am the man. Roarrr.
And one more thing, I had ridiculous varicose veins.
Here’s how bad: I’ve had two different procedures on each of my legs. The first one was scelorotherapy and the vein doctor advertised his practice with huge billboards all over town of his before and after work. When he examined my leg, he got so excited, telling me it was the worst veins he’d ever treated. He then asked me if he could use my leg for the billboards. So, I am all over town with my big ropey veins blown up to billboard size. I don’t tell many people. The second procedure I had was laser removal. I LOVED that. Good luck with your procedure. You’ll be quite happy with the results.
Your blog is so so funny and entertaining. I read the first half out aloud to my hubby and couldn’t contain my laughter. Enjoy your well deserved glass of wine. I might just dig out my old Sweet Dreams novels and have a glass of wine myself. Cheers!
Your mention of Sweet Valley High brought back vague memories of a licensed board game- anyone remember it? Great post, I still haven’t recovered from my week and I wish there was some wine here…
I will listen to your heinous venous stories all day long. Especially after you’ve been drinking.
This is my husband’s Tuesday, so our week just started. That’s not good, because I was seriously considering sending my kids to pick up dog poop in the rain, to get some quiet today.
Send your husband over here, years working in the penitentiary has made my husband very efficient at turning the asshole switch off & on.
Oh my dear crippled friend of mine…you sound like me…Although, I had to stop drinking because of the pain meds I’m on and apparently they don’t like alcohol and I also love my liver properly functioning…so I’ve been on a dry spell.
And my goal of being an asshole at work is going pretty swell so tell your husband that if he needs any pointers, just ask me.
Sigh…