I had a crappy day yesterday--not for any reason, really, except for maybe the realization that I was at work on a Monday, when the two previous Mondays had been spent relaxing (ha--have I mentioned I have three teenage sons and an eleven-year-old daughter?) at home. It was drizzly and rainy and while nothing went spectacularly wrong, nothing was quite right either.
Sometimes when I've got the crankies for no reason, I like to dip into the old Spiral Notebook journal that I've kept since I was fifteen. Here's the entry I stumbled upon last night--at the time, Son-One was four, Son-Two was two-and-a-half, and Son-Three had just turned one. I was a few months away from returning to the workforce, but employed full-time tending three boys, whose sole job was attempting to drive their mother insane. Oh, we also had an 8-week old border collie puppy...
Wednesday, August 19, 1992
11:08 AM--There was no toilet paper this morning when I got out of bed. I thought maybe it was the TP Fairy, but I looked everywhere and I guess she forgot to leave the money. Son-Three's diaper was full (of record-breaking, rancid, green shit). My bra situation has gone from desperate to hopeless. I could find two this morning, one had dog shit on it and the other had a gaping hole in the left cup. I washed out the second one and offered the first as a sacrifice to the gods in charge of this day. I hope they appreciate it--it was a hell of a good bra, it served me long and well and I loved it dearly.
I make this pit stop entry in an effort to dispel whatever evil spirits may be hanging over my day. When the first hour I'm out of bed goes like this, I've got to do something. I'd cross my fingers for the rest of the day, but I'd probably break a nail or put an eye out.
Yeah, yesterday was pretty bad, but if I made it through August 19, 1992, I'm pretty sure I can survive anything this week has in store for me.
On the Other Paw
11 hours ago