Perpetually Peeved

You say today is Saturday?

Fell into bed last night at about 11:00 after a long day trying to wrap up stuff at work on limited brain cells, buying last-minute items, and packing (kind of – there’s still work to be done).  I use my iPhone as my alarm clock.  It has never failed me.  Until today.  Some part of my brain hears the news announcer say 8:23.  What the crap?  Check phone.  Phone dead.  Commence freak out. 

Borrowed from (don't know where they stole it from).

Peeved:  Oh my…  No way!… 

Mr. Peeved:  What, what’s wrong. 

Peeved:  It’s 8:23. 

Mr. Peeved:  Oh (turns over and goes back to sleep – he’s used to my antics) 

Peeved:  Shit!  I was supposed to leave the house 23 minutes ago!  Smalls, get up, we gotta go! 

I absolutely HATE being late.  I HATE feeling rushed.  I have a bubble of anxiety and panic rising from my stomach and shit!shit!shit! running through my head. 

That IS kind of what my hair looks like when I don't let the conditioner sit for the full 2 minutes.

 Drag my ass into the shower.  Warp speed wash, rinse, repeat.

 Throw on whatever is in the nearest dry cleaning bag. 

Slap on some makeup. 

Throw on some shoes. 

Wake up hubby to ask if he tried on the stuff I bought him for our vacation last night.  Ignore the Are You Freaking Kidding Me glare. 

Wake up Smalls.  Well, actually it’s more like carry her limp body to the potty and try to dress her while she flops around like a ragdoll. 

Glasses…  hate looking for glasses when I can’t see!  Aha!  Nightstand. 

Crap!  Need the camera cord to download some pictures for work.  Where is the GD camera cord??? 

Got it.  Now, need those invitations to bring to Smalls’ school for her birthday party.  Check. 

Okay, let’s boogie.  What do you mean you want a ponytail?  You never let me do your hair and this morning you want a ponytail? 


20/20 vision. Camera cord. Invitations. Keys. Coiffed child.  Where’s that phone?  Oh, yeah, on the charger. 

Unplug.  What?  WHAT??  6:49???  Oh for the love of Pete!  

C’mon Smalls, we’ve got time to grab coffee and a muffin. 



Shel Silverstein

  ‘I cannot go to school today, ‘
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
‘I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I’m going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox
And there’s one more-that’s seventeen,
And don’t you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut-my eyes are blue-
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I’m sure that my left leg is broke-
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button’s caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,
My ‘pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is-what?
What’s that? What’s that you say?
You say today is…Saturday?
G’bye, I’m going out to play! ‘

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