|super fun cranky pants image that almost makes me happy from HERE|
I have to confess something, people: on Fridays I don't want to do a LICK more of housework. A lick of housework. What a stupid f*cking expression. I just got this image of the whole house being in good order, except for that one last juice ring on the kitchen table. Then I whip in, with my dress, pearls, and starched apron and say; "OH GOODNESS! I missed a spot!" Then I lean over and lick it clean.
So grouchy. So, so grouchy.
Every Friday it's the same thing: I am DONE with wearing the MOM PANTS. Here--here they are--someone else can wear them today. They're nice, lightweight beige capris. They look terrible with ankle socks and running shoes, I just discovered this morning, but hell, I needed a power walk. By Friday I feel revolted by the whole revolting business. I don't want to clean, vaccuum, wipe phantom hairs off, wash, fold, re-organize the Polly Pockets (could the shoes be any tinier? Seriously annoying), wash, dry, fold, put away, make snacks, figure out any dinners...fetch drinks.......pick up dirty underpants, crouch down on my busted a$$ knees to find missing socks, sweep up crumbs, vac up a million tiny stones, ponder what cheap cut of meat to defrost for dinner--NO. I don't want to do one more thing along those lines come Friday. Not one more thing.
So, this morning I was pulling toys, books, Polly Pocket dolls and lego pieces out from under the couch, and feeling very, very rancid indeed. The Man asked if I wanted breakfast. On Fridays we sometimes enjoy a mcmuffin thingy together and a gorgeous McDonk coffee. But remember: I was supa miserable.
Me: "I don't care. If you feel like going, I'll eat it. If not, whatever."
He decided to go. Then I started to feel a wee bit happy, because they also have good orange juice. I freaking love orange juice, but certain FOUR YEAR OLDS WHO SHALL GO NAMELESS are orange juice fanatics, so there's almost never any orange juice.
Weird Mom Factoid:
When I was pregant with Ella, I had a SUPER CRAVING for tart, sour, tangy, citrus things. I was a monster for orange juice, and I could not get enough sour things. I needed lemon cakes. I sent The Man to the store on an errand to find lemon sorbet (why can't they just f*cking spell it sherbert), but they didn't have any, so he had to get RED FLAVOUR. I also sent him off at one point looking for fruit bottom yogurt, so I could flip that thing upside down onto a plate, and eat the little castle of sourness from plain yogurt goodness to fruit bottomness, without mixing the two together. I couldn't get enough lemon and orange things. Then, along comes Ella and she is a NUT for orange juice. She gets up daily around 6:00 and pours herself monster glasses of the stuff until it's gone. So, DO pregnancy cravings have more meaning than we think?
And so, as I was saying, The Man hopped into his car and headed off to Mcdonk's. Then he returned, like, one minute later. Because they were CLOSED.
CLOSED. For RENOVATIONS. MCDONK'S.
HOW DARE THEY?!!!!
I'd like to see what the hell these renovations are going to be. Is Mcdick's going to be updated from a grubby cafeteria style dining area to an upscale cafeteria style dining area? Does this mean they're going to take Playland apart and wipe all the urine and ecoli out of it? Oh! I know! Maybe they're going to make the pipes slightly wider, so zaftig girls like myself don't get trapped by their SUPER HOOTS in there when they're desperately trying to get to their panicking 3 year old daughter, who is lost and confused somewhere up in that horrible, claustrophic habitrail. Then that mom has to back her ass out and climb back down the awkward plastic TREE feeling immense shame, while the kindly, skinny grandfather guy volunteers to climb through and show the wailing kid how to find the slide.
Yeah, work on THAT, Mcdonalds. Work on that.
You know what else sucks? Healthy food. I secretly hate healthy food. I really don't see what's wrong with the humble cheese toast. One piece of toast, three slices of cheddar. No butter. Is that really such a tragic lunch?
But, because I am completely tired of feeling like sh*t, I have modified my afternoon meals to be lower in carbs. No, not devoid of carbs--that diet is stupid. The next to no carb diet? Have you tried it? You may know it as the "Atkins" diet, and it's also a diet prescribed to people who need to lose a lot of weight quickly so they can have hernia surgery? And then that diet gets photocopied a zillion times and passed around by women to all their girlfriends because "you can lose weight WICKED FAST!" Hooray! You also get to feel sh*ttier than you ever have before, have zero energy and have a rotten taste in your mouth at all time! Awesome!
Like I said, it's not a no-carb lifestyle change. Heavens to mergatroid no. What I'm doing is cutting my carbs back slightly and upping my (barf) protein. This means that instead of having a fast, easy cheese toast, the other day I had a fillet of tilapia hashed up in a pan with a scrambled egg, and one ounce of cheddar cheese. And it looked horrible. And I felt REALLY SORRY FOR MYSELF. But, I put some hot sauce on it and some fresh cracked black pepper, and can you imagine--it was actually quite tasty.
It's making me cranky. I just want to have a cheese toast and be done with the whole cooking/eating/lunch business. I have to admit though, I have been feeling better.
I need a few key things today:
1) a nap
2) a solo trip to a garden centre
3) at least 3 fingers of rye later on
Then I'll be all better.