You know those days.
My house was a gigantic fucking nightmare, there was crap everywhere, sometimes literally, it smelled like a goddamn litterbox and there were piles of laundry in random places and underwear seemingly everywhere. You know that Simpsons episode where Marge gets up in the morning and keeps finding underwear all over her house? And she walks through picking them up saying "underwear.... underwear.... more underwear...." and she finds them in the freezer and such? It was like that. (Actually, sometimes I feel like my entire life is like that scene. I've been trying to find a clip of that on YouTube and haven't been successful, but if you saw it, trust me, you would laugh.)
So there was laundry and underwear everywhere.... and..... it was the little things. The little things that kept happening.... you know... little. fucking. things. For example, there was this plate of cat food in the middle of the floor in the kitchen that I kept stepping on; squishy cat food..... with my bare feet. And somebody had spilled a glass of water on the carpet, and I was apparently unable to walk across the room without stepping in said wet spot.... with my bare feet (at least it washed off the squishy cat food?) And the really long easel paper that Child 1 likes to spread out in the front room and draw BART tracks on had been attacked by cats the night before and, um... well, they did bad things to it. And I was trying to get everybody ready for school, but I couldn't even walk because there were cats constantly circling around my ankles (I call it "Constant Cat").
For some reason, Child 2 always manages to find some reason to melt down right before we're about to walk out the door. It never fails, in fact, I don't think we've had a single day this whole school year where he hasn't been crying about something as he gets in the car. I've tried many different ways to figure out how to make this not happen, but I guess he is determined to be crying as he walks out the door every fucking day; always making us late, of course. And Child 1 was in this weird trance, probably because his BART drawings had been fouled by cats the night before, so it was really hard to get the two of them to put their shoes on and get out the door. (Oh, and BY THE WAY, judgey fucking Berkeley parents? YES. I drive my kids the 6 fucking blocks to school every morning. That's right, I see you on your fucking bikes giving me the stink eye because you know how close I live and am still driving by you. My mornings are fucking hard enough and driving my kids instead of dragging them the 6 blocks to school makes my life just a teeny, tiny bit easer, so I'm going to fucking do it. I don't care what you think about me and I certainly don't care if it's bad for the planet. FUCK THE PLANET)
Here, I drew it for you:
The breaking point came when I was trying to microwave my breakfast, but the glass tray that turns the food around while it cooks simply refused to fit in into the little hole dealie that it goes into, which meant I couldn't heat up my food until that fucking thing got in there. I snapped and SCREAMED "GAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" and started banging the glass thingy against the bottom of the microwave. Poor hubs comes running out of the bedroom upstairs to say "oh my god are you okay??" and I was like this
Okay, so I finally get the kids off to school and I head over to my client. I get there, and she's standing on the street with some police officers, because her studio has been broken into. Again. She runs an art studio for kids and for some reason people really like to break down her front door. I don't know why. She's really cool and was obviously very distraught, considering that pieces of wood and door hardware were literally halfway across the room. So I was like... seriously, Today? WTF is wrong with you?? Do you just have it in for everybody??? and I head into her office in the back to get my work done.
I sit down at her desk and am greeting by this:
... and I just started laughing my ass off, because..... seriously? Help me unwind and feel at ease? Do you think the lotion has that kind of power? Will it erase the shitty morning I just had? Will it melt all my stress away with its lavender and chamomile powers? I bet it smells GOOD, though.
It actually did smell good, and I happily moisturized my hands with it, and while it seemed to lack sufficient power to actually "melt" away my stress, I was allowed a lovely chuckle at its presumptuousness. So, thank you, Johnson's Body Care, you actually semi-succeeded with your lame marketing attempt, and you made my day just a little bit better.
I hope you all read my guest post yesterday, over at AutismWonderland. If not... FUCKING GO!!!!!
