Perpetually Peeved


Cleaning house

It’s not that I don’t like cleaning.  It’s that I loathe it.  I have texture issues that prevent me from wanting to touch anything that has been sitting in the sink longer than 30 seconds.  I’m deathly allergic to dust.  I have a not-so-mild case of ADD mixed with OCD.  So, I will start cleaning the living room and three hours later, my DVDs will be arranged categorically and alphabetically and the rest of the house will still look like a bomb went off.

oooh.... colors... organization...

Every night when I see the first star in the sky, I close my eyes tight and whisper, “star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight…  I wish for… a cleaning lady.” 

Well, Princess Tiana, I’m not.

I’m left winded and disappointed every time.

With no fairy godmothers showing up to my parties, my adventures in housekeeping leave me pleading to my husband to let someone else come over and do the work.  My husband is the type that works more than full-time and still wanted to build the backyard playset for the children from scratch.  You can guess what his response was.

Phooey.

Then, there is the issue of budget.  Nowadays, everyone is on a budget.  Cutting back, getting out of debt, preparing for the future…  In order to justify the expense of a cleaning lady, I would need to to some serious cutting back in other areas.  Hmm…  TV/Cable?  No way.  Glee just had it’s premiere tonight.  And, Survivor: Nicaragua is pretty rockin’ so far.  Cell phone?  Dream on.  That iphone is my woobie.  I literally sleep with it in my hand.  Don’t even mention the word that starts with “sh” and ends with “oes.”  So, what would I give up in order to get a cleaning lady?

Oh yeah, you can hear it now... "Don't stop believing..."

1.  THE DVD COLLECTION:  Let’s start there.  Because, really, how many times can my husband make me watch Gladiator and Braveheart? Unless it’s Grease or Dirty Dancing, it’s not worth watching over and over.  And, those two are on TBS at least twice a month.  So, we’re good.

2.  MY FIRST BORN CHILD:  What?  You spend just thirty minutes in a mall with her and then we’ll talk.  Besides, she’s the one making most of the messes.

3.  MY PINKY TOES:  What are they good for anyway?  It’s not like the big toes that we need for balance.  Sure, they wouldn’t fetch as much as a kidney, but a family like mine will drive you to drink.  I’m going to need all the internal organs I can get later in life.

4.  TEETH:  I have 20 baby teeth and two adult molars I could hock.  Baby teeth fetch a pretty penny these days.  Come to think of it, Smalls will be losing hers soon anyway… we could make that 40. And, I have to assume that molars are worth something.  Why else would the dentist give them to you after he yanks them out of your mouth?

Here's an idea... maybe a nice strand of baby teeth could fetch a buck or two.

5.  SOCKS.  I have at least 10 socks.  They could be re-knitted into a sweater or something.  So what if none of them match?  I’m sure I’ll find the mates as soon as I get rid of them.

6.  FOOD.  Tons of it.  All stuffed in my kitchen cabinets.  I have no use for it.  I can replace it all with Ramen Noodles and Birdseye Steamers because, really, that’s all I know how to cook.

No?  Okay!  Fine!  I’ll sell the kidney.  If I need one when I’m old, well, that’s what kids are for, right?



To-do or not To-do – How ’bout F.U.?

The only thing keeping pace with my expanding waistline is the ever-growing to-do list on my desk at home.  I swear it’s like gerbils.  You start with one and  – BAM! – immaculate conception – and there’s 30 the next time you look.  One thing leads to another and for each thing you cross off there are five more things to take its place.

You know what I feel like doing?  I feel like telling my to-do list to go shit in a hat.

Medical reimbursement forms – Really?  I have to print something out and sign it and put a stamp on it?  I can FB chat with my long-lost cousin who lives in an igloo in Alaska but the doctor’s office can’t electronically tell the insurance company that I got my eyes examined?  Hey vision plan, go sharpen a pencil, hold it in your hand real tight and go run some hurdles!

Comcast cancellation – Yes, Comcast, you suck.  You suck my time, you suck my energy and you suck my money straight out of my account.  I’m done with you.  Done.  Don’t try to offer me free HBO for 10 years or re-bundle my plan to trick me back into your lair.  I quit you.  So take your modem, your broken remotes that are never where I need them, and your lousy-ass cable box that always cuts out right in the middle of Glee and shove them all where the sun don’t shine! 

Back-to-school doctor’s exams – The kids are fine.  They aren’t bleeding, they aren’t crying and there are no protruding bones.  Why do I have to take them to the doctor?  So the school can have a sheet of paper?  So you can charge me a $95 “administrative” fee in addition to my co-pay and then tell me my kids need immunizations that you don’t provide because the insurance doesn’t pay you back and you can send me to the local health clinic where I can spend my entire day off waiting around with a bunch of people who don’t have health insurance so that my kid can get a shot and come out bleeding and crying?  No thank you.  How ’bout you stick that vaccination in your eye?  Because, I’d rather do that than waste my day making my kids cry.  I can do that on my own for much less money. 

Back to school shopping – No.  Please, God.  I’ll do anything.  Don’t make me take Biggie shopping.  Don’t.  I’ll be a good girl.  I promise.  Crap!  Fine then.  Hey, Abercrombie, Justice, American Eagle, Gap, Payless, why don’t you light a match and see how fast the toxic fume cloud from all the perfume you spray on your clothes goes up in flames?  It probably wouldn’t burn as fast as my money when I have to shop in your over-priced, stinky, loud, ill-staffed store.

Budget – We’ve had this talk before, budget.  It’s time for you to be more independent.  I shouldn’t have to watch you all the time.  It’s time for you to grow.  I’ve set up all the Excel formulas, all the direct deposits, all the automatic bill-pays.  Why can’t you handle this.  Must I do everything myself?  What do you mean I have to stop buying so many shoes?  What do you mean by “no more vintage dresses?”  We’re going to have issues budget.  Real issues.  Pack up your minuses and your red cells, get on your bathing suit and take a long walk off a short pier.  Because, I’m not doing without new shoes.  No way.  No how.

This is what it will look like when I'm to-done with it!

There, that’s better.  You should try it.  What to-do f.u. do you have?




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