MORON
written @ 8:10 p.m. on 2003-12-15

I am a moron. If I have never said that before, then let it be known that is what I am.

I said I would do all of the baking while bug was away, but of course I leave it until the last moment. I always do. Stupid, STUPID me. So I spent the weekend covered in flour and icing sugar, with bits of batter stuck to my walls from the electric mixer. I was hot, tired, and angery at myself. And still I did not finish. On top of that was my attempt to make my family happy with making large meals. So of course my kitchen is a disaster, and remain so until Peter or Marion clean it up, or tomorrow night, whichever comes first. So that will mean I will have to clean it all up, but as I procrastinator it will not actually get done until Wednesday, when I have time after school and work. I would scream at myself, but that would really mean I was crazy.

Now the next part of me being a moron.... I knew I had to work today, and so knew I had to call Susan and let her knew I needed her babysit. I knew this Sunday, but I baked and forgot. I knew this Sunday night, but I wtached 3 hours of survivor and forgot. I knew this morning but took bug to school and then started work, and yet again forgot. So at 11:30 I remember, and silently curse at myself as I lock the store up to go get my kid and bring to work for the day. Thank god I remembered when I did, or she would have been standing there waiting for me for who knows how long.

So I bring her to work, where I have no food or drink for her. She lives off of chocolate kisses from the jar for the customers, hot chocolate flavored coffee and my pepsi. Now I have a bored, trapped, hyper active child.......stupid, stupid. Add to that bitchy, christmas shopping customers, and really could things get any better.

Well actually they could. I in my infinte wisdom decide that once the day that would never end at work ended, would take the kid to supper so that I wouldn't have to deal with the mess at home. Smart huh, real smart. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now she is getting seriously bitchy from the sugar crash, I am exhausted, and we are now in a restaurant. THIS IS JUST PERFECT. We get through this, but there is still the 20 minute walk home, all uphill, and Sydney has decided to revert to a 2 year old temper tantrum because dad is not home to drive us, and if we would have waited at the restaurant just a few more minutes, he would be there. Whine, whine, scream, scream and so on, and so on, and I am going to pull out my hair soon, I swear to god.

Now it 8:30, and Susan has not called me back about watching bug tomorrow, and I am not going through this again, so now what do I do? She's probably mad at me.

Moral of this story is I AM A MORON.

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