I am grumpy. It hasn’t been a “grumpy day”, although I have been known to have more than my fair share of those. Overall, I think today was a lovely day. Nothing spectacular happened, and I had to run a few errands here and there. It was an ordinary day in every way, which — although it sounds terrible and boring — is a very nice thing in real life.
And yet, here I am, banging away on my keyboard with a viciousness that surprises me. It’s like I turned around and that little voice in my head hollered at me, “Hey, you! Yeah, you! Don’t forget: YOU’RE GRUMPY!!!” Even as I type this I am doing the growl-thing under my breath. You know, where you face up to something you don’t like by going “arrrrrrrrrrrrrrr” for several minutes so that only you can hear it. I know you’re sitting there right now giving your computer screen the stinky fish-eye look and thinking to yourself: “Heck no. I don’t do that. I’m sweet and kind all the time.” But we all know you do the growl-thing. We all do it, at one time or another.
My daughter is nine. It’s a great age and lots of fun … until it isn’t. Being nine seems to mean she is all about pushing her boundaries every moment of every day that we are together. There’s a lot of pretending not to hear what I’m saying to her and quite a bit of goofing around instead of doing the things she is supposed to do. She gets distracted easily. Homework takes about a hundred years, no matter how simple the task. Bath time takes about a hundred years. Getting ready for bed takes about a hundred years. Eating breakfast each morning takes about a hundred years. Putting on her shoes and finding her coat takes about a hundred years. I’m sure you get the picture. Of course, she’s a kid. All of this is part of being a nine-year-old kid, and it’s all normal. Usually, it’s not a big deal, but, when we have to go through the same routine day in and day out, it starts to wear on me.
A couple of weeks ago, I ordered an item online. This is something very special to me, and I had been awaiting its arrival with great eagerness. Today, it arrived. I was so excited and happy … until I opened the package and found my item had been broken during shipping. Darn you, US Postal Service! (I am sitting here making “the angry face” at my computer, by the way.)
I came home from a school function this evening to find my daughter had left her plate on the table when we ran out of the house earlier. While we were gone, Sister Kitty climbed up on the table and helped herself to the food left on the plate. Now I have to be on the look-out for hidden kitty barf. Because, of course, it will probably make her sick, and she will go off to some dark corner of the house to do her thing.
I wanted to make a blog post, but I didn’t have any photos ready. No big deal, I thought. I’ll just head onto iPhoto and find something that might work. Well, I was wrong. At first, iPhoto wouldn’t load. Once it loaded, it decided there were inconsistencies within my photo files, and it had to repair those. It felt like that process took forever and a day, particularly because I had to stop everything else I was doing at the time. Once the program decided it was done making repairs, I clicked the button to go back a screen and search for suitable pictures … and nothing happened. NOTHING. My whole computer froze. I had to force it to shut down, which meant I lost the first draft of this post. And still had to fiddle around and search for pictures.
To top it all off, I’m tired and ready to call it a day.
And so, I think that is exactly what I am going to do. I am going to finish this rambling post of madness, head into my bedroom, and curl up with an episode of Foyle’s War. I have let The Little Things run away with the tail end of my day, but, instead of being angry with myself for this, I think I will be kind and compassionate. Because I deserve it. And because tomorrow is another day.
Perhaps I should be afraid …