I'm late, on this. In my defense, it's been a hell of a week. Tuesday, I called a pest control service. I asked for soonest available, assuming that it would be a week out.
Nope. The lady I spoke with told me they'd be out on Wednesday afternoon. And I had that long to get my cabinets emptied out.
With Odysseus's help, I got that done. Started clearing the countertops, but didn't finish that part. They came, they sprayed, they left, and I looked at the mess, and declared that I was not cooking supper that night. I couldn't even really get to the stove.
I spent Thursday morning trying to put the kitchen back together, and did well enough that I was able to make supper, and made chili. It was delicious chili, and the person who came in to babysit the pixie (who had not woke up from her nap) stayed to eat chili with us. Because I made a lot--somewhere around 3 quarts.
Continued trying to put kitchen back together on Friday, between things going wrong (it only started with bad imp behavior--and didn't get better throughout the day). Yesterday was a trip up to visit my in-laws, then grocery shopping, and we didn't get back home until around 5:30. By which point I was exhausted.
Note to self: definitely talk to doctor about this. It cannot be normal.
The kids have continued acting up. Maybe it was the so-called "supermoon" last night affecting behavior--I don't know. I do know I'm about at the end of my patience with all the tantrums and refusal to follow instructions that both have been displaying. Yesterday, when it was time to leave the grandparents' house, the imp set up a wailing, tearful fit that he didn't want to go, because he wanted to go outside and play some more.
And that has been par for the course all fucking week. If it was the "supermoon," then I anticipate another week of similar behavior...and I'm not sure my sanity will survive that intact. Not without the application of more whiskey than I'm willing to drink, with my family history of alcoholism.
The cats have been really flighty since Tuesday. Their world got shook up with the kitchen being taken apart, and with strangers tramping through their house. They're friendly kitties, and will come up to someone who's sitting on the couch that they don't know to check them out and maybe get some affection, but are rather frightened by a high level of activity by said strangers.
I was ready to kill the last two students in the classroom, on Friday. They decided to stay put in the room, despite being finished with the day's work, surfing the net right up to the last minute of class...which put me almost late picking up the pixie. At which point I was faced by the tears of a small child who feared she'd been forgotten.
I'm going to start kicking them out ten minutes from the end of class at the latest. I hated that.
I got 3K words written, last week. Only 3K. I've been too busy running like a chicken with its head chopped off. I've gotten some of the second draft of a friend's book read, but nowhere near what I'd intended to have done. I'm going to work on the reading today, while the next bit of my book gels in my head. I'll have morning office hours on Monday to get more done, if I don't finish today (which I'm intending to do).
So far, I've got 30K words done on The Schrodinger Paradox, with another 8-10K words to go in part 1, and two more parts to write. I'm doing my best to write, but life is getting in the way big time.
It's been one fucking long fucking bad day. Starting with the kids' egregious behavior this morning, continuing through hitting every intersection where I didn't have the right-of-way exactly wrong, and with two of my students keeping me right up to the last second of class to the point I was met with pixie tears because I was almost late to pick her up. And she wouldn't nap. And hasn't left my general vicinity since, and I need some fucking space after the fucking awful day.
Cricket left me a lovely gift in the middle of the floor: a hairball the size of a tennis ball. Right about the time I had to leave to pick up the imp.
And the kids' behavior has not improved over the morning. It's not necessarily bad behavior, not constantly, but they are a lot more prone to fighting than they even usually are. And I am less patient with their spats and their carelessness with each other, with toys, and with the dry-erase marker caps than I usually am.
I want coffee. I need coffee. Coffee is my comfort drink.*
I also need sleep tonight, because we have plans tomorrow.
Fuck it. If I don't get coffee, I'm going to end up screaming. Either at the ceiling, or at one of the children.
I did not get my coffee*, this morning. Due to various antics perpetrated mostly by the imp, we were running late. Coffee got made, got put into a travel mug, but got left behind as I was trying to get the kids out the door. And we were running late enough, courtesy of the imp, that I could not go back and get it.
I am NOT HAPPY.
The antics can definitely fuck off. When, not if, they're repeated, Mama's gonna come down on the perpetrator (whichever child it is) like a ton of bricks.
*I am not un-caffeinated, because I had a massive sinus headache for which I took a dose of Midol. But damn it, I wanted that cup of coffee.
Exterminators came yesterday. Sprayed roach birth control all over the place, put out baits, and sprayed poison (non-toxic to children and animals, after it's dry) everywhere in the kitchen, bathrooms, a couple of places in the living room, and in a barrier outside.
It's now dry, and I've got a kitchen to put back together.
You never realize just how much crap you have shoved into your cabinets until you have to clear them all out for someone to come in and spray for bugs...
Wish me luck getting it done today...without causing myself harm.
It's been a rough day. I don't deal well with dealing with the public--pretty bad case of social anxiety disorder--and I managed, despite that, to go grocery shopping alone, call to cancel the health insurance that we'd had for nine years, and call around to find a pest control company that wanted our money.*
On top of that, I've got a solid case of cramps. I want to just curl up around a heat pad and drink 'til they stop, but I've got to go get the boy in an hour and a half, and I've got housework to do.
However. At the grocery store, I found something that happens to be one of my all-time favorite things: jalapeno bologna. I hadn't even seen jalapeno bologna in years. And I found rice flour penne.**
Yes, I have a fuckton of work to do (clear out all the cabinets in the kitchen) before tomorrow morning. Yes, I'm still jittery from my morning of doing things way the hell outside my comfort zone. Yes, I probably should be taking some thyroid support supplements (and some B vitamins) and getting off my ass and getting to work.
But. I've had a fried jalapeno bologna and sharp cheddar cheese sandwich, and another cup of coffee, and I feel like I can manage what I still need to do.
The little things bring great comfort.
*We've contacted two that wouldn't return our calls.
**I wanted some pasta bake, and I've found I prefer the taste and texture of rice pasta over corn or quinoa.
Why bother? I mean really, why? It seriously doesn't even fucking matter.
I read through the list of winners and placers from the beginning of the award (including the retro-award). Most of the time, the better books did not win. And the rot started around ten years before I was born (so, somewhere around 46 years ago). Before that? Some real, quality books were nominated, and often won. Now?** Yeah. Not so much.
The only function that the Hugo Awards serve is as a popularity contest among a small group of people in a circle jerk, kind of like voting for homecoming/prom king/queen.
And that...that is my take.
The Sad Puppies really need to tell the Hugo Award judges to go fuck themselves, and instead judge by what people are reading--and buying.
*I have no dog in this fight. I've looked at the Hugos for a suggestion of what not to pick up for two decades, now. The books are, for the most part, badly written, preachy, and boring--except for when somebody manages to slip in a good story and it makes it all the way in.
**Come on. Two Harry Potter books have won or placed in the 2000's. They are entertaining, but are, by no means good.