Friday, January 7, 2011

Louis CK and The Case of the Crawling Skin

I was banished to my room last night for being a hag.

My energy spurt day of the week turned out being yesterday.

Although I was tired in the morning, I was motivated.  I think it was the super filthy floors, and the carpets that hadn't been vacuumed in, uh, over a week.  

And the stink of mildew coming from my fantastical front load washing machine that I just HAD to have in 2008.   Fast forward almost three years, and that front loader has been added to my long list  I have entitled "Banes of my Existence."

Yes, they use less water.  Yes, they use less soap.  But do you know you have to wipe those suckers' seals out almost every time you use them?  Um, neither did I.  So, I haven't done it.

Now there is this perpetual stench coming from my washing machine that is reminescent of the dark pits of a person's bowels who has existed solely on McDonald's for much of his life.  

If I could do it over again, I would have bought that top loader that you can stuff, like, 25 pairs of jeans into.  That is pretty impressive.

So, I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed my little heart out of the tile on the first floor of our house.    Afterwards I dragged my sore, sweaty, and stiff butt off of the floor and vowed to buy a steam mop in the near future.

Maggie cried all day because she has a yeast infection.  I knew this was possible with little girls, but it has proved ridiculously difficult to get rid of and despite my efforts, has spread.  The pediatrician, a man, does not share my sense of urgency.

I cleaned.  Maggie cried.  The dog was disturbed by the moving of furniture and activity which cut into his naps.  He paced.

Then Wes came home and, like a whirlwind, whipped up the dog, Maggie and me into a frenzy that he is so good at producing...being the expert button pusher that he is.

Predictably, I was exhausted and a complete bitch after dinner last night.  

Chris told me to go cool off in the bedroom .

My skin was crawling.   I was tired ~ physically, and emotionally ~ and I swear to freaking Yoda, if I heard one more scream or screech, I think there would be something baaaaaad going down in our house.

Alone in my bedroom (aside from the two year old directly outside my door screaming "Mammmmma!  Mammmmma!"), I decided to watch some comedy on my laptop to remind myself that I am not alone.

There is another who is so frustrated with his four-year-old that he will stand up in front of millions and call her a "f-ing jerk."

It was a stand up act we watched the other night on Netflix.

 I love Louis CK.   He has a mouth on him, though, just a heads up.   These were my favorite clips from the show:

I needed a little comedy to make my head feel a little less explosive.   I had a date with Louis and my laptop.   It was just what I needed.

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