« February 14, 2009 | Main | February 22, 2009 »

February 19, 2009

I need a motorator

It's only Thursday? It's only Thursday. And it's cold. And windy. (Although I don't really mind cold and windy if I'm indoors, which I am.)

I am sitting in the kitchen post-dinner staring at my empty glass and willing more wine into it. It's not working. I have a headache and a scratchy itchy throat; I am teetering on the verge of official illness.

Herself is flailing around the room talking on the phone with a friend. "Lonely? How can you be lonely? Is that why you like a sixth grader?" The travails of middle school.

It hasn't been the best week. "Huh," said my dentist's hygienist, looking at my tongue. "Something's making your intestines unhappy. And your liver needs a detox." Moo's cars tires have reached the end of the road (ha ha). My car does this funny thing when I stop at a light. I need new wipers and I'm running out of wiper fluid.

Twilight peed on my kitchen rug, the bag of newspapers in the kitchen, both kids' backpacks and Herself's winter jacket, and broke the halo off my statue of Saint Gertrude, patron saint of cats.

On Tuesday while I headed off after work to pick up my slugs, an older, very hairy guy on a bicycle was directly in front of me, and his pants kept falling down. For six blocks, his ass crack was directly in front of me no matter what I did. All attempts I made to change lanes, hang back, or pass him were thwarted by a taxi driver who must have known what I was doing and made sure I could not escape.

Yesterday I spent a large part of my day sitting in doctors' waiting rooms. During one appointment, my eye was anesthetized and an ophthalmologist dug aroung in it with a pair of tweezers, extracting calcium deposits and what must have been a pound of eyelashes. "Your eyeball must be wrinkled like a sharpei!" she said cheerfully, waving the tweezers for emphasis. "Every eyelash you lose just gets stuck in it!"

I got a call from Moo's school saying that he missed his first two classes today. He said he most certainly did not. "Call them, Mom!" he urged me, looming over my palsied hand as I dialed. I called the extension the recorded voice gave me, which it then told me was an invalid extension. The other absentee line just rang and rang and rang.

It looks like Moo might actually want to go to college after all, which is great except that I haven't filled out one form for financial aid, or even given any thought to actually paying for college. I guess I just assumed he'd live with me all his life.

My head hurts, my eyeball hurts, and if you'll excuse me, this wine glass is not going to fill itself.

Posted by JudyLa at 06:35 PM | Comments (0)