I had a good day? Did YOU have a good day??

Have you ever had one of those days just start off like you were mired in a pile of poo? You know, like the day of your wedding when you realize half-way to the church which is a 25 mile drive from your house that you forgot the slip to wear under your wedding dress and cell phones were non-existent so you have to stop at the roadside bar where truckers stop to have pie and coffee and you’re wearing your big poofy wedding veil because you just had your hair done but you’re still in jeans and a button-up, groddy shirt because you don’t want to mess up your coif? Or how about the kind of day, say like your wedding, where once you DO make it to the church, you then realize you forgot your chicken cutlets that go into the bust of the wedding dress because you’re so flat, water pools on your chest…standing-up but you can’t get a hold of your husband-to-be because he’s already left the house a bit early so he can bring you a stupid slip?

That’s not the kind of day you want starting off not going well.

Today I’m kinda havin’ one of those days. I slept on the sleeper sofa again since husband snores. Why don’t I kick HIM out since HE’S the one that snores? Because by the time I can get him awake enough to comprehend I’m kicking him out to the sofa, I’m so pissy I can’t sleep. So if he wakes me up with his snoring, I can go make the trip with pillows in hand without opening my eyes. I go right back to sleep in the glorious silence that is the front room’s pull-out sleeper.

The downside to sleeping in silence is that the alarm is still in the bedroom. Husband got up this morning, got my son up who has this dry, hacky cough, so he puts him in the shower and then by the time he wakes me, 20 minutes of my morning is gone. I can’t get in the shower because our bathroom appears to be the only one the kids will get clean in even though there’s a perfectly good, but unused, bathroom with tub AND shower in between THEIR rooms.

Instead of a shower, I decide I’ll eat my breakfast first and then take a shower. I eat my blueberry shredded wheat, which isn’t “bad”, but the other day when I told Aitch I was having shredded wheat for breakfast, she erroneously repeated back to me, “You’re having tumble weeds?” So yeah, now I think of my breakfast as great balls of weeds blowing across the prairies.

I finish breakfast and head to the bathroom since Doodicus should be done by now, and while yes, he’s standing there wet from the shower, he’s crying and coughing and generally having a breakdown. Dad gave him his cough medicine WITHOUT. LETTING. HIM. HAVE. SOMETHING. TO. WASH. IT. DOWN. WITH! What kind of jerk does that anyway? Partner exits the bathroom, his eyes rolling and I’m left to comfort Dood who now complains he can’t breathe and the coughing is revving up in frequency and then whoop, there it is, BLOOD!

The warm shower + dry sinuses + coughing + tendency = gushing epistaxis! And while I want to just sit him down and get into the shower because I need to shave today since my mole-check is this afternoon and I can’t be standing there mostly naked with hairy pits, legs and…other stuff…but hey, my kid is oozing blood from his nose, so copiously that it’s draining into his mouth so now he’s gagging. I walk him to the toilet to stand over the bowl and basically drip-dry. Bloody water splatters out of the bowl and onto the walls and toilet. I think we’ve had this discussion before, right? Murder scene over a commode or something, yes?

I stand with him, rubbing his shoulders as he whimpers and gags and spits blood until it slows down. We walk away, his towel now smushed against his face to catch the last of the blood. He sits on the edge of the tub. He feels better so I’m about to shoo him out the room so I can FINALLY get into the shower and shave and smell better.

And then the bleeding starts again, just as heavy but it doesn’t last as long. Christ! Just stop already! I need a shower and I can’t just sit him on the bed while he bleeds all over it so I stop the selfish thoughts of shaving my monkey legs and wait again, but not as long, for it to stop. He says he can’t breathe. He’s still dry-hacking. I decide to take him to the urgent care (after I jump in the shower). I don’t bother to shave. I also decide that since today is a short day at work, I can come home and re-shower properly before my strip-search.

At 7:20 we head to the urgent care, barely a 10 minute drive. At 8:20, we are still in the lobby but the parking lot is empty. Doodicus wants to go to school. He’s bored. I’m bored. Finally we are to the exam room! Where we wait some more and I take a picture of the hideous yellow walls and post it to facebook along with a picture of Dood looking at himself in the stainless steel paper towel dispenser and a photo of the sign that says, “Exam gloves are for staff use only Thank You” and realize they must not like it when moms like me take a glove and blow it up, tie it off, and give it to their kids to play with. MAYBE THEY SHOULDN’T KEEP US WAITING, HUH??!!

He’s in school right now. I’m at work. Not working, apparently. My new shoes are fabulous but they are hurting my feet while I break them in. My hairy legs are snagging my slacks, which are also new and appeared to be tan at the store but are more grey but I don’t care as they fit my current bloated form because hey! Did I mention I also am in the middle of my womanly molt? Where’s the fucking menopause I supposedly was starting no less than five years ago, so said my reproductive endocrinologist.

Finally, can this post get any longer while I try to tell you that basically my day started off in that pile of poo that has surely dried now to a nice crusty pie for me to fling into the prairie of tumble weeds? In short, I am hairy, funky, and period-y and I have to undress for a young man who may or may not take a sharp (hahaha! I typed “shart”) instrument to my skin, which may or may not be trying to kill me. It’s a motherfucking awesome cocksucking day!!

It’s a PAR-TAY!!