So, my life is full of tragedy this week. Not tragic tragedy, fear not. Just little crappy annoyances that make me shout a little of the Bee Gees hit. I really do that. You use the word tragedy in a sentence, and unless someone died, there is a 97% chance that I will sing Tragedy.
I have a song for most occasions. When the words hit me just right, I always know exactly what to sing. This does not impress everyone. Some people scream, "NO! Don't!" as I start to sing , "I'm down with OPP" when Super Z says, " I've gotta go Peepee." I am not sure what is wrong with those people. Everyone loves a song...right?
But I ramble, back to the tragedies:
- My boss once again assumes that I am a miracle worker and sends me back a truckload of work with just three days to go until the end of the month. Why would she do this? It is a test. She tests me, I get it done, she tests me more. How will it end? One month will my head blow right off my shoulders because I. CANNOT. MISS. A. DEADLINE?
- Princess H had little scratches all over her pretty wrist. I love her wrist. I like to kiss them. I don't know what happened. When I questioned her Father I got the blank stare of the brain dead. Tragedy, I say.
- Super Z outgrew his camouflage pants. When I blast him for growing he just laughs and says that he plans to continue doing it...What the crap? What am I supposed to do, just sit back and watch as my baby who hasn't outgrown a thing in two years turns into a clothes outgrowing machine?? I guess so. When I pretended to cry and asked him what we would do about the camo pants he gently patted me and explained, " You get bigger ones, Mommy. It will be okay."
- I do not like spaghetti anymore. I have to break this to Randy. As suddenly as my love affair with spaghetti began 5 years ago, when I was pregnant with Z, it has now come to a screeching halt. This will surely break Randy's heart. I am running out of excuses for why I am eating something other than spaghetti for supper. Tragedy.
- I have more gray hair than my Mother.
- I am getting a wrinkle on my forehead. I saw it in that picture I posted with my pillow. Sigh...
- I want to get a real tree this year and Randy hates them!!!!! Any ideas for how I can bring him around?