Nothing to See Here…

There is a stomach bug going around.  It attacked my two littlest ones, going for the easy targets (Bastard!! Pick on someone your own size!) and then it saw how I was NOT defeated by caring for these sick little girls, so it went and infected my husband.  Any wife reading here understands all that is implied by the words ’sick husband’ (Oh, the drama… quick, let’s update the last-will-and-testimony before it’s too late.)  He said “I remember when you used to love me enough to take care of me when I was sick.” to which I replied “Yeah, those were the glory days, weren’t they?”  ‘Nuff said. 

I shake my cellular level fist at that damn stomach bug!  And when I say cellular, I think you all might be thinking mobile telephones, but what I meant were those little cells that we learned about in sophomore year biology (or some such science class).  Anyway, the stupid virus (or whatever it is) didn’t like me thumbing my cellular level nose at it, so it went and affected me too. 

So, instead of blogging I’ve mostly been spending my free time on the toilet.  Really, I could have blogged.  I mean, I have a laptop and wireless network, but to me that is like talking to someone on the phone when I’m doing my bidness.  It just doesn’t seem fair to the people on the other end to be party to that without knowing.  The truth is I never could have looked any of you in the eye had I blogged while emptying my bowels.  So there you have it.

This whole deal - sick husband, irritable bowels, etc. has left me a little more prone to pissoffedness than I usually am.  (There I go again, making up words…  pissoffedness is a doozy, though - feel free to adopt it.  From the lindictionary:  /piss OFF ed ness/ ~adverb definition: state of being pissed off.)

This morning, I was hungry.  I usually skip breakfast (how else do you think I maintain my svelte 240 pound body) but today I was hungry.  See, I went out for dinner last night and met up with some former coworkers.  Therefore, I ate later than usual.  What is it about eating later at night that makes you more hungry in the morning?  Stuff like that makes me question the existence of God.  Or, at least, makes me shake my fist (from the cellular level on up) at him for designing such a fucked up system.  If I ate dinner late, I should be LESS hungry in the morning, not more.  I mean, did God flunk Logic 101 or what?

Where was I?

Oh, yeah.  So this morning, I walk over to the cafeteria (I won’t tell you how irritated I am that it’s across the parking lot in the next building, because I just come out looking lazy then and 240 pound women like me try to avoid looking lazy if we can help it) and I buy a blueberry muffin.  (Well, if I was worried about you judging me for being fat and lazy, there I went and gave you more ammo - I should have lied and said YOGURT but then the rest of the stupid pointless tale would have been ruined.)  So I get my muffin and my butter (Yes, I’m quite sure that about 17.5 of those pounds are from butter, real true genuine butter.) and I sit down at my desk and slice my muffin open with my little plastic knife and I try to spread the butter.  Now, the butter is pretty soft and spreadable (Hell, I had to bring it all the way across the damn parking lot in my hot chubby hands) but the muffin is crumbling to bits. TO BITS.

I sat there and and turned into a crabby old geezer.  “What the dickens is wrong with this world today when muffins just crumble to pieces?  Back in MY day, our muffins had stick-togetherness.  Damn kids and their new fangled muffins.”

Oh. My. God.

When I started this stupid rant post, I had several things on my “irritated me” list and now I’ve just written a novel about blueberry muffins and I’ve forgotten all the other things.

Suffice it to say I was very irritated today.

Oh, don’t you go trying to sneak out of the room…  You’ll sit there and you’ll wait until I think of those things that I wanted to post about.  Stay put.  You don’t want to add onto my pissoffedness, do you?

Screw it.  I’m going to bed.  Or maybe to the bathroom. 

Maybe I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.