Friday, June 6, 2008

I scream, you scream, we all scream for SOMETHING!!

What a warm fuzzy welcome I received yesterday! Half of you wanted me to go on a killing spree, the other half wanted to hear me scream and curse...

Aww... you like me, you really LIKE me!!

Much as I would adore going on a killing spree about now, in the interests of self-preservation, I will merely scream and curse a bit...

However, as my brain is currently in FUCK YOU I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE OF YOUR RIDICULOUS BULLSHIT mode, this may be a tad haphazard...

<<<*Begin Rant*>>>

Husband has become possessed by the "I can do it all, and by I, I mean MISS ANNE" demon. This, of course, means that any and all legal questions are routed to me to be researched and SOLVED. Appropriately delicious and nutritious dinners are to be prepared by me each and every day, and if food needs to be purchased, hell, I have credit cards, I can do the shopping and purchasing also.

God help me Jesus, don't let 6:00 p.m. come and go without dinner being served, because that means that MISS ANNE doesn't care about anybody but HERSELF, and will incur the wrath of the aforementioned "I can do it all" demon. And pray you don't forget to stack the dishes, wash the dishes, dry the dishes, and put the dishes away, because that means that YOU ARE LAZY and willing to let POOR 85 YEAR OLD MOM do all the work.

Speaking of poor, 85 year old mom... One must answer all questions posed by mom, whether once, or a thousand times. It may seem as if Mom has lost a bit of her memory, but just try answering that question differently, and one will hear: "But a while ago, on the 73rd RE-ASKING of this question, you said something completely different, if memory serves..." Then one's brain will implode and one will blather to oneself: "Memory DOESN'T serve, Granny, so leave me the fuck alone."

Our new housekeeper is one of those mixed blessings you hear about. She can clean house like a motherfucker... But she will take all of the stirring/flipping/ladling/whisking items from the drawer by the stove, put them in a VASE and leave them by the REFRIGERATOR, which is all the way across the kitchen. THEN, she will take all the cans of diet coke, bottles of water/fuze/MinuteMaid lemonade/V8 juice, and stack them on the tiny piece of countertop DIRECTLY beside the stove. In some dark, cold corner of the universe, this might make sense. In MY house? Not so much. Bottles are melting, and cans of Diet Coke are exploding. Meanwhile, the previously referenced utensils, stand alone on the vast counter by the fridge.

*sigh*

Did I mention that the drawer by the stove NOW holds plastic knives, forks and spoons? Who needs a FUCKING DRAWER reserved for plasticware? Sweet crispy JEEBUS, this annoys the FUCK out of me.

Yesterday, I asked her to wash the walls in the bathroom, and the ceiling in the bedroom. "My hands stick to the bathroom wall, when I touch them," I told her. "And at night, I'm afraid monsters will come out of the dirt living on the ceiling above my bed and eat my face off." When I came home, I checked the bathroom and bedroom first thing:

My hands still stick to the bathroom walls. They haven't been touched. In an effort to turn something BAD into something GOOD, I decided to hang my clothes on the bathroom walls, sans hooks. We now have PEEL AND WEAR clothing hanging in the bathroom.

My bedroom ceiling looks like it has been repainted... with swirly dirt-colored paint. It's kind of pretty... but will not stop a monster from eating my cheeks and nose.

The rest of my house absolutely GLOWS from an inner cleanliness that I did not know a house could possess. God bless you, Anna. Please marry my husband and let me continue to live here. You make him deliriously happy. Me too.

Actually, things aren't so bad... with the possible exception of my demon possessed husband, who is driving me bug-fucking NUTS. The in-laws are appreciative of what I do, and for them, I'm happy to help. What makes me angry and sad and over-tired is the expectation that my husband has the I will simply jump up and turn into WONDER WOMAN at his slightest whim.

This includes sex at 4:00 in the morning.....

Who the hell can enjoy sex at 4:00 in the morning? I cannot even remember my NAME at 4:00 in the morning.

God knows, I am trying to be patient. I know what that family is going through. I know what's coming. I know how hard this is gonna be. And I do want to help. Help being the operative word... I am not a caregiver. I am not a chef. I am not a housewife. I am not a fucking blow up sex doll.

I feel like I am constantly walking a tightrope.... If I fall to one side, I will have one of my "MISS ANNE" fits, and tell them all to go to hell. If I fall to the other side, I will fall into a depression so complete I'm afraid I won't recover from it. So I try to keep walking...

Did I mention that I'm no tightrope walker?

<<<*End Rant*>>>

6 comments:

Avitable said...

You sound like you're doing pretty damn well to me. It's time for you to get a little Miss Anne time, I think.

RIGHT SAID FRED said...

you keep telling us what you're not, then what the hell er ya ? E.T. come home.

baseballmom said...

Jesus, girl...you're a saint! I remember the days of Husband trying to wake me up for the sex...he didn't get very far, and I didn't give a shit if he was mad. One time my mom's housekeeper came here and did the same kinds of things--took all of the stuff from our kitchen counters and put it on the table so we couldn't eat there 'til I cleaned it up, piled up everything in my pantry and rearranged it so it makes no fucking sense, etc. WTF? Anyway, we missed ya...

Burfica said...

WTF??? 4 in the morning?? there is life at 4 in the morning???

at least your cleaning lady isn't stealing stuff, that is always a plus.

Bina said...

My God. First of all, you changed his name? It used to be Satan, right? And damn, I can certainly see why. How in God's name is any woman supposed to make that man happy. Sex at 4? Dinner done, dishes washed and put away, answering the same questions a 100 times a day? I would have to be half drunk most of the time, or lock my self in the bathroom, throw myself against the sticky wall, and not let anyone peel me off!

I would say you ARE wonder woman, cause you haven't killed anyone yet.

Sleeping Mommy said...

Oh Miss Anne how I wish I could come over and kidnap you and take you out drinkin' to blow off some steam.

As one of my classmates told me a couple of semesters ago, "What you really need, is to get good and lit."

How about I tag you for a meme instead? Alright, then. Done!