Tuesday...Hell In A Handbasket

Have you ever had one of those days that begin badly and just get suckier from there? It's kind of like biting your cheek while eating and then continuing to bite down on that sore spot everytime you chew. You can't win.

Tuesday started off okay. I woke up in D's bed after a sexless night's sleep. It was actually awesome. I slept pretty damn well in his tempurpedic bed. Getting off topic...

Okay, I made my way home without incident. It was a nice day, or so I thought. I walked into my house and low and behold my dog, Phoebe, left me a couple of lovely presents. Dog turds and dog vomit. So lovely to see what it looks like coming out of one end and then the other. Lovely smell too.

I thought I would take my time getting ready for work. About 8 AM or so I took the dog out and made myself breakfast. I ate pretty healthy and was feeling pretty good even after the dog shit/vomit incident. I headed to my room when my friend in IL two-way radioed me. We chatted for a bit about nothing special, but that nothing special turned into an almost hour or so conversation.

This will be my first day back at work so I just happened to check my BlackBerry at about 9:24 AM, for the first time in over a week, for my daily agenda. Still haven't showered at this point. There it is...FUCK!!!!! I have a 10:30 team meeting in Marietta! I live in Suwanee, GA which is a Northeast suburb of Atlanta. It's about 35 miles from Marietta, about a 40 minute drive in good traffic. I hadn't even gotten a shower yet! FUCK!!!!!

So, I jump off the phone and grabbed my clothes, run into the bathroom, wash my face, throw on some makeup and try over and over again to make my hair look like I didn't just roll out of bed! OH MAN, it looks like I've had sex and I didn't even get lucky at all! I just slept like a rock so my hair just looked like shit. Why does hair have to look like you've been hanging upside down all night? It took about 15 minutes to get my hair up to look decent and I ran out of the house, but not before I realized I'd left my leather jacket at D's house. Double fuck.

I hit the road at 10:04 AM, just as my lead calls me to ask if I'm on the road yet.

Me: "Yes, I just left."
T: "I'm about 10 minutes away."
Me: "Really, well I'm about 35 minutes away, I'm going to be about 5 to 10 minutes late."
T: "I think everyone forgot about this meeting."

Yes, we all were going to be late. Tuesday had turned into Monday simply because Monday the 2nd was a company holiday. I hate Monday's and I hate the first day back to work after vacation. It really sucks. My director should be shot for scheduling a meeting the first day back at work. I'm sure we all had plenty of crap to cover from being on vacation aside from his retarded meeting on Industry Verticals.

I get to the meeting only 1 minute late...I'm a speed demon. I was lucky I didn't get ticketed for going 30 miles over the speed limit, but apparently everyone else was in just as much of a hurry. The meeting had technical difficulties so it started late, lucky me.

Where was the coffee? No coffee for this meeting? What about lunch? This meeting went right up to lunch time and it was a "team" meeting! Come on Mr. Director, take care of your staff! So, I didn't get coffee, which I hadn't had at breakfast, or lunch. Chalk it up for another fucked up morning.

I get to work and get bombarded by bullshit. Jan 3rd is the official melding of the two company's merger. We are officially working off both platforms and I should be knowledgeable, but I'm not because the company hasn't provided enough cross training on each other's systems yet. Lovely. My customer's expect me to know it all, in the past I've been a veritable font of knowledge as it is my job to know just about all I can, but this time, I'm a clueless bitch. I play it off that I'm getting up to speed, which of course I'm so far from it, but my customer's are not too pushy...YET.

I make it home during rush hour without too much incident. I need D to pick up my son at my parent's house because he's not had to go back to school yet. That should be fun for him I think. My son is 15 and not a happy camper about me dating at all. But he's coming along. I expect them to ride in total silence with D attempting to make small talk. I'm sure it's excruciating for both.

I get home and immediately start making dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs with salad and garlic bread. The meatballs are homemade turkey meatballs and they turn out pretty damn well if I do say so myself, but I end up with less spaghetti sauce than I thought and my pasta ends up a little over done. Fuck. I'm no Martha Stewart. You probably already figured that out though.

So the bitch of dinner isn't so bad after all, D went to get some sauce at the store to supplement and I sent him home a huge container of spaghetti...he didn't stay over...damn was I jonesin' for his johnson by now too. Such is life I suppose. Strangely, he and my son got along on the ride home. But they both decided that they hate my little truck...I have small, but brand new, SUV. It's only 4 cyclinders but why do I need a huge engine that is a gas hog? I just drive back and forth to work for fucks' sake. D drives a monster quad cab Hemi V8 so he thinks he's got a man's truck...and he does. I just happen to have a truck designed for a woman. I don't need to run over Mini Coopers and Toyota Prius's. I'm just trying to get from point A to point B without incident. At least they found common ground. Fuckers.

Okay, enough about my fucking vehicle. D leaves after fixing my kitchen faucet which apparently started leaking and my garbage disposal breaks as well. Yippee fucking skippee. Isn't life so much fucking fun? All I needed now was a case of raging Avian Flu and a scorching case of herpes and gonnorhea. LOVELY.

I finally make it to bed, needing to be fucked like nobody's business and I'm tired as hell after a sucky day at work and making a huge mess in my kitchen that I had to clean up. Oh, don't forget, the dog has to go out too and she wants to RUN HER ASS OFF. So I got dragged all over God's green earth. Some moron didn't take their trash out apparently and an animal had dragged chicken bones out of it. Phoebe went for those like a death row prisoner getting conjugal pussy for the last time. I had to fight those fucking little greasy bones out of her mouth and throw the fuckers into the woods. But, not before Phoebes got some small bits of bone eaten. Fuck. Now she's gonna be sicker than shit all over my house.

But my story doesn't end with bedtime. My son apparently slept most of the day away as most 15 year old boys will do. He was up playing his guitar when I went to bed around 10 PM and I told him to put that damn thing away and get some sleep. "I will Mom" he promises...right.

About 3:30 he comes into my room.

J: "Mom, I can't sleep"
Me: "What else is new?"
J: " Can I lay down with you for a while"
Me: "Do you have to?" (Remember that I'm half asleep)
J: "I can't sleep in my bed, but I always can in yours. Please?"
Me: "Alright (sigh heavily), get in, but only for a little while."

Now, my kid is big. Not fat, just a full grown person and he is a bed hog. I HATE it when he sleeps in my bed. He's not a little boy anymore, which sucked when he would sneak into bed with me even then. He used to kick me in the back and I'd get elbowed in the head. I know what you're thinking. I should never have ever allowed him to sleep in my bed. Easier said than done. When he was sick as a little guy it was easier to keep tabs on him and get him better, plus it allowed me to get a bit more sleep and be more readily available to him when he needed me. Now, he's just attached to my bed. It's a bit more comfy than his he says, plus I think there is a comfort factor for him, sleeping next to Mommy makes him feel safe. Mommy thinks it sucks having her full grown kid taking up all of her bed leaving her one fucking corner or the very fucking edge.

So, we're up and down all night because he can't sleep. YIPPEE! I have to get up for work and he starts school again the next day. High school here in my county starts at 7:13 AM. Frickin' early...too early if you ask me. He still isn't used to getting up at 6AM to get to school on time. He had 27 tardy's last semester if that tells you anything. My kid just isn't easily motivated and he hates school. What a great combination for what I had hoped would be a Rhoades scholar, wouldn't you say?

So that's my Tuesday in a nutshell. Wednesday didn't turn out to be much better. Phoebe had diahrea in my home office and in her favorite spot to shit by my back patio door on the carpet. YES, more shit to clean up and this is the really gooey kind that I loathe so much! In fact, I have just run out of carpet stain remover. Looks like Wednesday wasn't any better than Tuesday. Still no cock either. Life is so much fucking fun.