Yesterday morning we had a dusting of snow. Did you read that? A dusting. Suddenly everyone acted as if we lived in Florida and got a snowfall. No one knew how to drive. Everyone was going about 20 mph on roads that were totally clear. People were slamming on their brakes when a car a mile in front of them came to a stop. There was even a fatal accident on the highway because some idiot crashed and then GOT OUT OF HIS CAR because he saw a truck coming towards him. Isn't that some basic rule of driving? Stay in the car? Especially when you're on the highway? Anyway, by the time I pulled into the parking lot at work I was a jittery mess. And I hadn't even had any coffee! Which, by the way, pissed me off because I WANTED to go to Starbucks, but since the morons were out, I ended up with no time to stop.
About 15 minutes after sitting my ass in my chair, the phone rings. It's my darling husband. He is FREAKING OUT. Why you ask? Because while he was taking the kid to the bus (he's Mr. Mom) the dog decided that she was going to eat the frozen steaks I set on the counter to thaw. Yup. She opened the ziploc back and ate the steaks, foil and all. Mr. Mom (MM) was freaking out because the dog just ate $30 worth of steak. Not that the dog ate frozen meat and foil, but that he was out $30 for steak. "Something has to be done!" he yelled at me. Uh, ok, what would you like me to do? "She needs training or something!" Ok, so find her some. And then take her to it. But we all know that isn't his plan. His plan is that *I* find the training and that *I* take the dog to it. Because really, I'm sitting around eating bon bons all day with nothing else to do. So I let him rant and then hung up.
Later on that day MM emails me to let me know he's sick with flu-like symptoms. I tell him to go lay down, take some tylenol and some immodium and chill out. Later I get home with the kid and we run around like crazy for an hour doing laundry, taking care of the dog and doing all the other little things I do before we had to run back out for me to get my hair cut. We ride over to the salon only to realize it's CLOSED and I had the wrong day. Damnit. So we ride back home and I spend the rest of the evening doing laundry and getting ready for today (how do other moms deal with all this piddly shit we have to do?? Permission slips, book orders, special requests from the teacher, signing off on their behavior for the day, lunch for tomorrow, etc. No wonder Michelle Duggar homeschools!). Around 10:30 when I'm getting ready for bed, MM texts me from the basement to ask if he's quarantined. He really thought I would hang out with him when I got home. I told him that yes, he was quarantined and no, I wasn't going to share space with him especially if he was nauseous and had the runs. Why put myself in that position? Because we know that if I get sick ain't no one going to take care of anything until I drag my sorry ass out of bed and do it myself. Then he asks if I have canceled the cleaning lady for today. Because she shouldn't be coming to the house if he's sick. Ok, wait. You want me to come hang out with you while you're sick but you don't want to put the cleaning lady in any danger? What?! So I told him no, she was coming and I wanted her to clean the germs.
I'm waiting to find out that I've been Punk'd.
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