'cause I had a bad day

warning...truth in blogging... it ain't pretty but it is all pretty trivial:

The a/c is off again. And it's 85 in here at 10:37pm, but it's lovely and cool OUTside. Everything is worse when I'm hot and sweaty.

Like trying to fix the belt of the vacuum. After 1/2 an hour of trying to get it open, with what ended up being a stripped screwdriver.

Like my sewing machine making a clinking sound. And sticking. And needing fixed.

Like Liv screaming for 2 hours straight, until she lost her voice. Peeing her pants and the area rugs. Getting cut on the neighbor's swing. Drama. Like the neighbor's not even checking to see if she was okay.

Like Cathrynn asking 40 times to go back outside. Seems she didn't hear me say NOOOOOO the first 39 times.

Like looking for airfare for a gal's weekend getaway, knowing that the money is just not there.

Like being really motivated to decorate for fall. But instead, get half done w/ switching LuRay pastel china for cobalt & blue & white. And realize the groceries are still not put away. Dinner isn't made. It's 5pm. Like Frank not getting home for dinner until 8pm, not 7pm as he'd said and then mentioning how dry the chicken was. And not as tasty as last night's sesame chicken.

Like the dog's quilt not spinning even after 2 tries. And then putting down a load of CLEAN towels for a second, and it falling into the litter box.

Like listening to the husband bitch at me 'cause his favorite sleeping clothes are still in the dryer at 11pm because I obviously did nothing but sit on my arse in front of the computer and TV all day. Which is wicked wrong on a day when I did not.

Like the lawn stinks like d-o-g. And he was only here for 2 freaking days. I watered it all for an hour. Now it smells like a wet dog.

Like baking the Amish Friendship Bread. Again. And I didn't give 3 bags away sooooooo, I'm supposed to bake 8 loaves, and give away 12 bags of fermentation. Yeah, right. I'm trashing it. But first I'm going to eat an entire loaf of butterscotch chip bread. And ponder... Hugh Grant or Colin Firth? Either. Beer or wine? Either...

Please.

At least I don't have pix to capture this day. Blech.