As I write this, I am nearly in tears, and not the happy ones either. Not the "YAY thanks for the new car" kind of tears.
These are the "wits end" kind.
I woke up this morning with Montezuma's Revenge. Thank you frozen pizza for the Old Faithful-like action in my stomach. So while I was in the middle of, um....ya know....I managed to lose a contact. I don't know how it happened, and didn't notice it until I looked out the window. I don't know if I flushed it or what. Sucker was gone. And the last contacts I have were the ones in my eyes.
Put on 14 year old glasses that make me almost as good as legally blind. Stumble out to the kitchen and find the number for the eye doctor. They're not open. Wait patiently, and call them again. Girl tells me that I haven't had an eye exam since 2007. Wrong answer, Sister. I have to go every year or, duh, I can't get more contacts. I'm starting to get pissed because I have a copy of the prescription in my purse. Anyway, they can have a box of contacts in-store in a week. A WEEK. I ask if they have any trial contacts in the store. They don't know because the doctor isn't there.
Go back to round-file some more pizza. Hubby calls in the middle of my progress. Get off the phone with him and go back to reading in my tiny little white office with the porcelain chair. Eye doc calls back. Yup, I can have a trial pair. The only hitch is that I can't see well enough to drive over there to get them. That's OK, I'll have hubby pick them up if he can manage to get off work before 8pm.
Tummy is somewhat better. Since the insurance adjuster from the freaking hail storm will be here Sunday, I decide I'd better get the yard mowed. And since the lightning hit the tree, its lost nearly all its leaves. Three hours of leaf blowing and raking in 76% humidity. I feel like hammered dog shit.
Yes, hammered dog shit. Stuck in a gutter. A gutter full of bum piss and my own sweat. That's how I feel.
Blowing and raking finished, I start to trim the edges. Managed to fling a rock up UNDER my fourteen year old glasses and it tags me in the eye. Have a smoke, cuss a lot, start mowing. The mower binds up and keeps stalling out. If I had the strength, I'd pick it up and throw it into the next county. But I don't, so I just stand there and call it an "effer" over and over. An "em effer" a few times too. Mom would be so proud.
Come inside to let the hounds out for a potty. Made the mistake of checking email. Sure enough, the dog we adopted out last weekend won't eat, won't wag and is miserable. And can I meet the gal tomorrow morning to get him back? Sure. No problemo. And then WHAT THE HELL am I going to do to convince this dog to EAT at someone else's house?!?!? If you have suggestions, let me know. Because he won't eat hot dogs, dog food, NOTHING at this lady's house.
Cancel plans for tomorrow morning (which involved no yardwork, no dogs, and no husband) so that I can drive across town and get said anorexic dog. Then I have to book him back home and take another dog to the vet to have staples removed.
Anyway, its 1:50pm here right now and I'm quite certain that's late enough to drink. From the bottle. Who needs a glass anyway?
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