Now playing: The O'Jays - For the Love of Money
So last night I was in the mood to sleep.
I took about 70 mg of melatonin. Which was less than I've taken in the past. I usually build up to about 100 mg, but since I hadn't taken any in a while, I figured 14 would get me nice and sleepy.
4 hours later I was not sleepy at all. I decided to take an OTC sleeping pill.
I fell asleep in about an hour.
Woke up about 2 hours later. (Joy)
I decided that having Evan find me dead of an OD on Sunday morning might scar him for life. So I just laid there.
I probably fell asleep in between watching the sun come up and staring blankly at the ceiling.
Usually if Evan comes downstairs on the weekends and I'm still asleep he'll go back upstairs and watch tv or play with his action figures so as not to wake me up (sweet).
This morning, he decided to have a Klondike bar for breakfast and beat it to death with a fork (to break it up, since we have sensitive teeth and can't bite cold stuff). So after about 2 minutes of this pounding I said "What the hades are you doing?!"
So I told him to watch his crap that had taped Saturday night.
I can't find my ear plugs. I need new ones because they aren't working so well, but they're better than nothing.
Because I couldn't find my ear plugs to drown out the sound of effing cartoons, I got up and started messing with my blog crap.
I never settled on anything.
I went upstairs to take a shower.
Felt like I was going to pass out.
I took off all my clothes, turned on the window A/C and laid on the bed.
He must have heard me moaning.
I heard him coming up the stairs.
I grabbed the closest thing to me, which turned out to be his pillow, and covered my boobs & hot pocket.
E - Who do you want me to call if you pass out?
A - *pant moan pant* Nana
E - Do you need anything?
A - No. (I really wanted him to leave me alone. I can't stand having to reassure him that I'm not dying at that particular moment.)
E - Ok *goes downstairs*
30 seconds later he comes back with 2 ice packs, a thermometer, a bottle of water & his big zorro hat and starts fanning me. (He really is sweet, but just the pillow covering my naughty bits was NOT making me any cooler. I wanted him to LEAVE.) So I stuck the ice packs under my arms & took my temp. 75.3° (in case you were wondering).
Finally I felt better.
Now playing: Zapp & Roger - More Bounce to the Ounce
I just downloaded the new FoxyTunes. Which lets me put the "now playing" thing on my e-mails & blog entries. So I'll use it for maybe a week... Deal with it.
Anyway, when I came downstairs he was about to fix himself more junk food.
Me - I was going to cook the Garlic Chicken
E - I don't think you should because you were sick before. (Sweet? or did he just want more crap?)
Me - Well then you cook it.
E - *sigh* Ok.
It's just one of those freezer dinners that you cook in the skillet. So I sat in there while he cooked. It was good.
Then I told him to wash the dishes & I watched the crap that I had taped Saturday Night. (Justin Timberlake on SNL came on E! I love the Barry Gibb talk show & Omeletteville sketches.)
Just in case you're thinking I torture the boy with chores, I pay him $25/month to wash the dishes. And I usually end up washing dishes a couple of times a week anyway because I'm bored. I started this because he used to use unnecessary dishes. Why did he need 5 different glasses just to drink water? I figured if he had to wash his own dishes he'd stop that shit. And he did. But then when it got hard for me to stand & wash the dishes, I decided to pay him to wash all of the dishes (except the pots & pans). Now when I wash dishes I sit on a stool, but it's not convenient or comfortable.
So then at about 6:30 I remembered that we hadn't done the laundry. At this point, he'd been in the kitchen for about an hour.
Me - What are you doing while you're supposed to be washing dishes?
E - Making soap bubbles on my hand
Me - Well, we have to do the laundry. And when we get back you STILL have to wash the dishes.
So we went.
Some idiot was parked in the only handicapped parking space. I sent him in there to tell whomever it was to move. She did.
So I told him to go put the shit in the washers because there was no need for me to get out of the car & go in there when I can't bend over to put the shit in the washers.
He put all the shit on Super Wash. Which is 42 min as opposed to 32. Might not seem like a big deal to YOU, but when you factor in 30 minutes of drying time & then 15 - 30 minutes of folding (depending on how serious he is about actually helping me fold the shit instead of trying to get money out of me to play arcade games or get a soda) it's like 2 hours. And it was late when we went.
So after he put the shit in the washer, I went to da dolla sto to get some dryer sheets.
While he was putting the shit into the washer, I decided to go to the bathroom. When I came out, he had poured the laundry detergent into the lid, but hadn't started the washer. He had just put the money in...
We went to the store. Came back & the stupid bitch was BACK in my spot.
I honked my horn.
She looked out. I pointed to her car. She moved it.
Handicapped spaces are there for HANDICAPPED PEOPLE TO USE. I have to have my doctor sign the form to get a handicapped parking space, so it's not like I can fake it. If the police around here weren't so goddamned slow, I'd call the law EVERY TIME I saw someone in a handicapped space with no license plate or placard.
Fuckers are lucky I can't hand out tickets.
We came home. He did the dishes. Watched TV for a bit & went to bed.
E - Thanks for getting your boobies all over my soft pillow, BTW.
Me - Boy, just change the geedee pillowcase and shut up.
E - Meanie.
I'm about to go lay in the bed for hours and stare at the effing ceiling until the sun comes up.
Now playing: Gap Band - Burn Rubber on me
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