Temporary Insanity?

I put a question mark behind the title because I'm not sure how temporary this state is.  I am tired.  This is a recurring theme.  I seem to have reached a new level of exhaustion and I can't even blame it on work anymore.  I don't work a 40 hour plus week anymore.  Not outside of the home anyway.  Yet last night I was in bed by quarter after 8.  I read for a little while and then it was lights out somewhere around 8:30 and yet, I find myself fighting the urge to either be-head someone or cry.

This could be due in part to the fact that around 12 a.m. my three year old made his nightly appearance in our bed.  I took him back to his bed by 1 a.m. and roughly an hour later I was on the couch having given up sleeping with fucking Shrek. 

Shrek is my husband.  Who has some serious sinus or adenoid issues because the snoring is getting out of hand.  Yesterday morning I gave up and went and slept in my daughter's bed.  She was out of town so I had roughly an hour of silent sleep there.  I currently roam my house at night searching for quiet and slumber.

My arms are literally tired from trying to hold them up to type this.  I have zero energy.

My husband? Rolled out of bed sometime after 8.  He then huffed and puffed for awhile because the dog pissed on his jacket.  Not good behaviour on the dog's part but at least it saved me from having to do it.

Do I hate him?  No.  But motherfucker if that guy can't sleep his way through life.  There is nothing short of mind numbing pain that he can't sleep through.  Until whatever time he pleases.  You know how a lot of adults say they can't sleep in anymore?  He is not one of those people.

I am.  Although given my current state I think I could actually sleep in.  It feels like I could sleep for days and not be rested.  There are still Christmas cards to mail, presents to wrap, a meal to plan, baking to do and don't forget actual work.  Oh and I'm not done shopping yet either.

This is not a good time to be fading.  Yet here I am.  Faded. 

Shortly I will leave to take my oldest child to the orthodontist and I will be hitting Starbucks first to get a White Chocolate Peppermint Mocha.  Artificial energy is my only friend at present. 

I am considering giving up all together and letting my youngest sleep with my husband and just taking the kids bed.  Why?  Because when I went back to my room this morning they were snuggled up like two peas in a pod despite the fact that my husband continued to sound like he was choking on a fucking chainsaw.  The little man slept right through it.  So perhaps they'd be better off together and I can sleep a whole night through in Jr's bed.

Worth a shot?  I think it might be.  It's that or manslaughter charges...I plan to plead not guilty by, you guessed it, reason of temporary insanity.

A Blast From the Past

Friday, August 21, 2009



Out of the comfort zone


The other day my husband suggested I try something completely out of my comfort zone in response to my 100 millionth bitch about my job... I hate my job. This will be a recurring theme so may as well get it out of the way now. However, I have four kids, a mortgage, a car payment and a husband embarking on a new career so I'm stuck with it. I'm ridiculously envious of him because he's doing what he's always wanted to. And unless someone out there wants to pay me to make fun of others, that's not an attainable goal for me.


 So here I am. I wish, more than anything in the world, to be a writer. Original, I know. However after having just finished another Jen Lancaster book I'm sure this is my calling. Oh, and to write for the Chelsea Handler show and maybe someday make the round table....euphoria. However, when one lives in Saskatchewan and began breeding just about as soon as physically capable and didn't stop until a full 13 years later, my chances are greater that I will be spat on by a client.


I'm quite positive I'm not at liberty to divulge what my current job is but believe me, being spit on is entirely possible.


Posted by 77Cher at 8:37 PM

Out

I was bitchy yesterday. All day.  It had me wondering what was up and if I'm one of those people who'll never be content.  Then I showered, did my hair, put on some make-up and clean, semi-fitted clothing and left the house.  Lo and behold, I found myself in a better mood!

You see, like everything else, slob-ness must be done in moderation.  I spent the better part of my day in my favourite pair of sweatpants.  I left my house yesterday morning and I paired the sweats with a fleece hoody and tucked my hair up under my hat.  I looked like ass.  And it turns out, it meant I felt like ass too.

I'm not placing all the blame on my sweats.  There are other factors at play here.  Like my children.  The youngest continues to be an asshole and this time I'm referring to his tendency to come sleep with us in the night.  There is not enough room at the inn.  So I take him back to bed, and within an hour or two, he's back.  We sometimes do this up to three times a night.  This does not equal a rested me.  It actually itches a very bitchy me.  Especially first thing in the morning.

Christmas is coming and I can't quite decide how I feel about that just yet.  I like Christmas.  However, Christmas requires money.  I don't care you are.  And money is still in somewhat limited supply around here.  Not as bad as last year when the piece of shit my husband was working for stopped paying him, but it's still tight.  On the positive side though I am at home.  I can shop on a Monday morning.  I don't have to cram my baking into the two days before Christmas if I was lucky enough to get them off of work.  I don't have to return to work after Christmas.  I'll be working, but from my home.  So there definitely is an upside.

Bottom line is I need to get myself out of this house.  Not allow myself to be lulled by the promise of sweats and un-styled hair every day.   It just doesn't do this body good.  And as a kind friend warned me, I need to keep an eye on 'things' because sweat pants don't get tight.  Or at least not until a good 20 or 30 pounds has been gained, so jeans, once or twice a week (I'm not going to get crazy here), will serve more than one purpose.