Define: Bad Week

It's not over yet, is it? This week I mean. Let's review, shall we?

With Monday came the break of my son's fever! Yay- he can go out to play... That's where the good part ends. As Monday also brought my white knuckled visit to the dentist. Beyond the fact that I have a suspicion of anyone who wants to stick their fingers in other people's nasty ass mouths for a living, the smell of a dentist's office puts me on the verge of throwing up all over the nice clean floor. Plus- I was sporting the fever my son gave me for a weekend present, including headache and sore throat.

And What. The. Fuck is up with the dental industry? After how many years, could they MAKE a variable size to those damned Xray slides so they don't cut up the mouth of anyone not sporting the mouth of a barnyard mule?! My BP was through the roof (well, 120/80 is through the roof for me). Not only did I get the supreme pleasure of being in there on Monday- but I have to go back.
Appears I have other fillings also crumbling from same said previous asshole dentist who put in the one that has already fallen out... and I have what she says looks like a NEW cavity in one of my teeth. FUCKING JOY. So- we'll be back in the chair again- and we will be sedated- or we will likely bounce off walls and end up hiding in a closet like a stray cat.

Ah- Tuesday. Can't bitch much about Tuesday- other than the kids doing the usual song and dance of fuck around, fuck around, fight. Looked in my pill bottle Tuesday night, and to my chagrin see that that was indeed my last pill. Fucketh. Tried to call the refill line, and it was, as usual, not working... so I figured I could go on ahead and call the next day and go pick them up. Kev took the kids out for awhile, and they got to spend the allowance cards. They came back home, joyful, full of glee and really noisy. We all know what I fan of noise I am.

Wednesday rolls up, call the pharmacy, and get told my refill would be ready tomorrow. Not in the mood for an argument, and as it is just for my Ambien, I say okay, fine, whatthefuckever. Then I spent 2 hours in the kitchen cleaning. My stove sucks- it's an electric piece of shit range, and there are these spots between the burners and range top that have black shit in them. I can't get it out- so I think- Hey- I'll pull the burners out, so I can clean the edges. Ambitious, yes? Once I finally figured out how to lift the range top, I found I can't take off the burners to clean out the black shit caught in the cracks. I was genuinely dismayed for about 2 minutes.
I thought about attacking the mini blinds, but screwed it off in lieu of the walls instead. Just wanna extend one more thank you to the fucktards in housing who thought filling a FAMILY (ie, kids and mess) housing unit with pure white tiles on both walls and floors was a great idea. Good call there, are-tards. Top notch thinking.

Here we are. It's Thursday. Note- I was up until 4 a.m. Two reasons for that- one, I was helping deal with some drama within our little gaming community. Drama and gaming may not seem to go together, but get a group of 100 people together and you are bound tp have shitheads involved. As most of them are in the states, and it is something I committed to, I was around. Didn't mind a bit... plus, I wasn't much feeling like sleeping- as when I go a few days without Ambien, my schedule likes to reset itself to insane.

Onwards... I get up around 10ish to spend about 30 seconds talking to the hub, and start the pounding of coffee and aspirin. Called the pharmacy to make sure refill is ready, and woohoo- it is. Called the "sick fucks who put fingers in mouths for money", or as you might say- the dentist- to schedule the appointment for further torture. Nothing available.... They told me to call today to make this appointment, and there are none. Guess I can call again tomorrow- at this rate I'll get on the goddamn airplane to move the same day as my drill-n-puke.

The kids and I decide we'll go out for a late lunch and errands. Awesome, gave me a few minutes to grab a quick nap before showering and war-painting of face to hide jumbo-tron zit on my chin... and the little girl wanted to lay down too. We cuddle up under soft sheets and warm blankets for a nap. It was sweet and pleasant. 25 minutes later, the doorbell rings. It was one of their friends- (the same one who had come by at 10:30 when I had one eye open to ask if they could go out)- He again wanted to take them out to play. Told him we were napping and would be going out later, so they would be around after that.

My sweet darling daughter tried, but was unable to get back to sleep after the door disturbance, so she got up. 10 minutes later the little "angel" was in there trying to talk to me in my nearly comatose state. SHe came in every 10 minutes there after... like a walking snooze button. I finally asked her, "Do you remember Mommy setting the clock alarm?" She nods. "Okay, then why are you in here trying to wake me up?" She didn't know... seriously she said, "I don't know." I looked at the clock. I had 15 more minute left of the hour and fifteen I had set forth with in the beginning of the nap fiasco, so I said fuck it, and got up. Back to coffee and aspirin pounding on the way to the shower.

Get naked, get clean, get dry, get half dressed. Here's a secret about Freud- she puts on her pants, socks, shoes, bra... and then does her hair and face... In a bra. Whilst trying not to stab the mascara brush into my eye, I was listening to my son call my daughter a "big butthole", and my daughter freak out because the socks she had didn't feel right on her feet. The fucking doorbell again! So much for not sticking the make up in my eye. The same boy was at the door again, asking for them to go out and play again... and my son tells him, "We are leaving in a few minutes". The little basta... um... boy pops off with, "JEEZ! How long does it TAKE?!" Had I not been standing in afore mentioned bra ensemble, I would have gone to the door and said something unnecessary and evil to a child that is actually a good kid, and one of the few I approve of being friends with my children.

Hey- we gotta go, right? Daughter can't find her shoes, her hair still looks like a mop, I can't find my fucking checkbook, son pissed at me that I won't let him take a football to the pharmacy to play with while we wait... get hair done, find scattered shit, grab needed items, we're on our way! WEEE!

We whisk out the door, and pile into the car- cue obviously necessary monkey shit fight over who sits in what seat in the car. Once asshatery is quelled, it's time to go. Insert key, turn key... nothing. Hmm... clutch in, check. Brake on, check. A/C, lights, and radio knobs set to off, check. Turn key again, get sickening click and silence of a dead battery. Had I tried to cuss the car out, I wouldn't have been able to- even I can't verbalize that many dirty words that fast... and I didn't want to scare the children. Back upstairs, take a deep breath, and call hubby, and leave message about dead car.

The kids are outside playing with their friends, the husband is on his way home, and the fucking cat just hocked up a hairball on the floor. Can't wait to see what Friday has in store, but I think I may go get some beer... been a long time since I have had a nice cold one, and I think I will appreciate it. God knows I don't have time for the nervous breakdown I so desperately deserve.