I Don't Feel Like It

You can get used to anything. Really.

I think it’s the most dangerous part of living. Take the fact that I’m a spoiled kept woman. It wasn’t always this way. There was a time I took care of myself. Well. That might be stretching it what with the getting knocked up by a bank robber but I was alive. And I did shit. For myself. Lots of hard shit. Now I don’t want to lift my arm to adjust the volume on the stereo in the car. I really don’t. This morning I was taking the kids to school and we couldn’t really hear the radio the entire way there and back because I just didn’t have it in me to lift my right arm and reach across the space between me and the stereo.

It is not a great idea for spoiled kept women to move to the country.

There’s always all this shit going wrong that needs taken care of. Sure I still have The Man but we have a difference in opinion regarding priorities. I think that bastard might like the kids better than me! The gutters fell off at least a month ago and instead of hammering the fuckers back onto the house he built a swing set. Don’t fucking “awww”! The swing set has two swings. TWO. Three fucking kids people. I’m sure you can imagine how fun that is. So I run in and out of the house tripping over gutters and rescuing the big ones from the little one with the stick.

One of my favorite features in the Pilot was the thumb control to adjust the volume conveniently located on the steering wheel. Oh the joy of pressing that button. Kids are whining..up upupupupup…child must tell joke for fiftieth time… down down down down…and upupupup again! It was not quite as fabulous as the magic button they give you after surgery but it was in the neighborhood and it never made me itch.  Now the button does nothing. NOTHING. Something happened between the steering wheel and the place the music comes from. There’s only one suspect and that mouse is dead. It’s too bad. I’d beat Mickey with a shovel for taking away my magic music button if I could.

Not really. I would have The Man do it.

The other problem is other people getting accustomed to you doing shit you don’t feel like doing anymore. You will never meet the best housekeeper in the world. You won’t. The best housekeeper in the world will make sure it never occurs to you that anything ever even needs done. ‘cause it just will be. Done. Well I quit that. Now people are going to know I swept and mopped because when they come out of the bedroom in the dark to pee at night they’ll notice they’re not stepping on anything wet and mushy like a runaway grape. They’re going to be goddamn grateful for a load of laundry when they haven’t had clean clothes in three days. They’re going to understand that dishes that don’t go in the dishwasher are not going to magically find their way clean to the cupboards.

This is tricky of course since I might get used to it being filthy and just NEVER clean again.

*sigh*

Somebody roll me a grape I don't want to get up.