Monday, April 7, 2008

Bad Way To Start The Day

I was running in a field, wind blowing through my hair, though I could not feel it. The sun was shining and I knew it heated my skin, though I could not feel it. I felt nothing. No pain, no fear and yet I found myself running for my life. The scratching noise followed me everywhere I went. I recognized it and the urgency behind the scratching was the only thing I did feel.
I stopped running because, well, I realized I wasn't really getting anywhere. All that effort and I moved about 2 feet. I blinked and realized I wasn't in a field at all. I was with my friends. Friends I didn't recognize in a house I didn't recognize. It's always a house I don't recognize, but it's always my house. I was happy and we all laughed in unison. My mind was quite suddenly pulled away from that moment into a vivid muddy darkness. The memories of laughing faces fading fast. I felt groggy and tired. I felt... conscious again. I hear scratching again, an incessant scratching and meowing at my bedroom door. Rigid screamed, "Morrigan, fucking STOP!"
Morrigan replied, "Meow?" but she stopped for the time being. We did this about 5 times last night each time falling asleep faster than before. Each time waking up feeling less rested. At one point I asked Rigid to put Morrigan's box in front of the door in the hopes that it would deter her from scratching so much. Maybe she'd finally curl herself up in it and sleep. It's lined with one of my favorite bankies and I'm hoping she's comfortable in it when the kittens come, but at the moment she's just not interested in it.
It was a bad idea from the start and deep down I knew it. Now instead of waking up to the low sound of an insane cat scratching at the door we were waking up to loud screeching scratches and mournful mewing echoing though the bedroom door. Who knew that breaking down your bedroom door could leave gaps in the frame. Thanks Rigid, thanks for saving me from myself that day so long long ago, but you could have fixed the door honey.
Doesn't really matter. I felt it deep in me bones, it was about to be a bad morning. Me bones I say! ME BONES!!!! Yar! ...Ahem. So My television turns on the news at 5am each morning, but I slept right through it. Precisely the very reason why I have 5 alarms on my phone. I used to have a clock radio/cd alarm, but it was big and bulky and smashed Rigid really hard in the ribs. Damn thing broke. Oh...don't feel sorry for Rigid. I can't really remember what he did to me but it was bad. Believe me. You should believe me anyway, I'm perfect and never make any mistakes. Rigid can attest to that.
I finally get up at 5:30 after I turned off my last alarm because I realized I hadn't showered the night before. Yeah, I'm a night shower-er but not today. I kicked the bloody box out of the way and screeched at Morrigan on my way out of the bedroom, rushed straight into the shower nearly tripping over Seren jumped in and out of the shower, yelled at Rigid for laying there as though he'd been working all weekend and tried to pick out something to wear. Um...let's just say a woman should never rush into these types of things. Guys, you can wear a plain shirt and slacks every day. They could ALL be in the same color spectrum of blue and no one would ever bat an eye. That means you could wear a blue shirt every day of the week, in different shades, and no one would care. You'd still look great, but what about us women folk? We HAVE to wear something different every single day and it CAN'T be the same color and it certainly should NEVER be the same blouse. Which is why I prefer to dress like a man.
Nothing was ironed of course so I picked out something I would not normally wear. Well, why in the fuck am I writing about this? Who gives a shit what I wear to work. I fucking don't. Especially when I choose an outfit like that. I looked like an asshole so I grabbed my man shirt, my iron and ran into the bathroom to dry my hair. It's 5:44 am at this point and I have about 5 min to dry my hair, iron my shirt, put on my shoes, grab my stuff, kick the cat, kiss my husband and put one foot out the door. My hair looks like a crows nest when I halfway finished drying it, but I had to get my shirt. Rigid is still lying there and I know when I get home enough will be done around the house to keep me from blowing a gasket, but it won't be clean. Not really and I'm not even talking about what I would call clean. I always feel bad doing this, but honestly if you're not working and you have no kids what do you think is the least you can do? Clean the house, feed the cats and feed your spouse. That's about it. He was all done and getting back into bed while I'm grumbling about not having an ironing board.
"It's in the bedroom, why didn't you get it?" he said. I didn't want to be an asshole, but it's almost like second nature to me. Plus it's too damn easy.
"UMMM, let me think. Because I'm an asshole and I'm too busy turning off all my alarms all fucking morning because the cat's scratching at the door all night long. Your screaming at the cat all night long and I can't remember that I need to wash my ass before I go to fucking work. I never seem to have the time to iron my shirts! You know instead sitting there watching me struggle and busying yourself with stating the obvious you could have just gotten the ironing board for me." Of course had I said exactly that It probably would have been more effecting.
Instead he said, "But I still don't understand why you didn't just get the ironing board yourself." Then proceeded to giggle at his wit. It's not easy to become enamored of yourself. It takes a skill unlike anything you've ever known. Rigid is the master.
"Listen, by the time you go and just get the fucking ironing board I'll be done with this so don't bother getting up." I said as he made to get out from under the covers. He giggled a little and began to settle down and I said, "Yeah jack ass, that was me being sarcastic. Go get the fucking ironing board you ass!!!"
"You fucking retard, Hooha Popette Hooha." or...something like that. Hmm, did I fail to mention that I was ironing my shirt on the bed? Yeah, hence the struggle. He comes into the room with the ironing board, stands in front of me stark naked holding it up and says, "I don't see why you're still ironing, here's the ironing board. Why are you still ironing?" At this point I know I have 7 min to get out of the house and still maybe...just maybe make it to work some time between 6:30 am and 7am.
"Idiot! I'm not going to stop what I'm doing and wait for you to put the board out! What the fuck is that going to do for me. I have no time for this!" and he finally put it out. I wanted to yank his wiener and see if his head would grow...the one on his shoulders. We all know the other would grow no problem, too bad he can't think with that one. I mean, why can't the penis have a brain too? The world would be a better place, then again we'd probably be extinct.
"There, iron..." he said. I whipped around, lay my shirt down, and passed the iron once, twice, three times and threw the shirt on. I think at this point I was just being an asshole because well... I've done my shirt on the bed before just fine. Still all Rigid did was laugh at me and call me, "...a silly Hooha."
I'm not going to even get into the socks and boots scenario. I stepped out of the room, kicked the cat (ok, not really, but I wanted to) grabbed my lunch and coffee, kissed the Hooha and ran out of the house. I didn't even get to pet it and I don't mean the cat.
I was happy to see that it was only 5min to 6am. Not great, but if the traffic was with me I'd only be 10 min late. I'd already heard that Charlton Heston died over the weekend, but the guys on K-Roq are funny. I listened and smiled. Not because Heston is dead, but because they're never seen those movies. He played larger than life characters and I agreed with their opinion. He was one of the greatest over actors ever. In his time of course. Jim Carrey's got him beat in the modern world of over actors.
I'm merging lanes as a memory flashed through my skull. Rigid...god I love him. Suddenly I catch a glimpse of the gas gauge and at the same time a little flashing black gas pump on my dim as fuck dashboard. I think to myself, 'fuCK-inG ASS-hOLE!!!! He fucking drove MY car around all weekend FUCKING LONG and didn't put gas in my CAR!' Suddenly, the love and adoration that had been swelling in my chest of happy and loving memories he gave me last night turned to venom and spit and EVIL. If I could have nutted him right then and there I would have.
Of course, I had to call him up and bitch at him. I know had there been anyway that he could POSSIBLY have avoided this conflict he would have, but he didn't therefore it must have been a HUGE turd of a mistake yet...there was nothing I could do. I couldn't help myself. I really tried, but I couldn't. I fucking LOST MY MOTHERFUCKING MIND!
You know it's a MisfuckingAdventure of a post now don't you? Yeah, I let him know carefully and with much restraint that he left no gas in my car. It was quite literally on empty. He apologized quickly and said he had no idea. I'm sure a few expletives were thrown his way I can't exactly remember, but I was trying my best to just let it drop.
My brain is swelling and my chest pinching at this point, but I get off the phone proud that I didn't lose it completely. I made my way off the freeway and onto the only station on the way to work that is literally 20 feet away from the exit. I could be off mind you because my brain is not to be used as a measuring tool, we'll just say it was half the distance of a crosswalk away from the exit and so is the entrance. Here's when you know the shit really hit the fan. I'm angry, I'm trying not to be angry at Rigid and I'm trying not to be angry that I'm going to be later than usual to work. I enter the code into the pay at the pump atm machine that doesn't take credit cards and check the back of my card when it asked for the pin. Queue the music. It wasn't there.
I don't want to hear it. I fucking KNOW it's not the brightest idea to write your pin # with a green sharpie on the back of your credit card. And really, what is "see ID" going to do for me at that point in the signature section of the card when my pin is right there for all to see? Nothing. Still, I don't care because I'm too fucking lazy to bother remembering a 4 fucking digit code. OKAY! I fucking meant to change the code ages ago, but I never did! Let it go!
I called Rigid in the hopes that he would remember it, he always remembers it. Not today though and I was a fucking major dick about it. I hung up the phone and proceeded to jump back on the freeway with ZERO gas. The traffic was still a bit on the light side so I just prayed I didn't get stuck anywhere. (I don't pray by the way, it's just an expression.)
My phone rings and it's Rigid. He doesn't actually have anything useful to say. To be fair, how useful could you possibly be at this point? Apparently very, because he spent the next 5 minutes explaining it to me. You see, in his infinite wisdom he was going to find the nearest gas station for me on the computer. Now, keep in mind, this is someone who to this day can NOT type his own email out without looking. Someone who still uses two little fingers to tap away. Someone who, and I SWEAR I'm not exaggerating, has to poke at the keyboard with his face literally 4 inches away from the keyboard and check the screen every other word for spelling errors. Last one I swear, someone who can't tell the difference between a colon and a period in a web address. Ok, I'm done. He looks like Schroeder from the Penuts know Snoopy and Charlie Brown?
Well, this is the point where I lost it. After I screamed out that he doesn't even know how to read a map and spitting out my tongue I relented and told him what exit would be coming up next. I don't even know why I was still talking to him. I hear him furiously trying to type away and I'm wondering what the hell he's doing. I'm allowing myself to feel comforted just by the very fact that he's on the phone. I'm trying to be calm and not take it for granted that he's such a lovley, warm and giving person. No matter what, no one deserves being berated and put down. No matter what.
I passed up the exit he was trying to find and moved on to the next. Still tapping away when the curiousity began to eat me alive. "Rigid, seriously, your not exactly great at maps as it is. What the hell are you doing?" I said.
"I'm not looking at a map Maha, I'm looking up the gas station." he explained.
"Oh Jezus!" I said laughing, tears blurring my eyes. They weren't tears of laughter either. I really wish there was a way to slam your cell phone down when your trying to be dramatic. I push the button as hard as I can and feel the muscles bluge in my neck. That's not how hard I was pushing I'm just a little stressed. Heh...
In the end I got to work just fine and I was only a couple of minutes late. I'm allowed a bit of a grace period so it's not like I'll be fired or anything. I didn't call him to apologize for shitting on him. I'm sure he fell right asleep. In fact, if I picked up the phone right now. Right this minute how much do you want to make a bet that he's sleeping like a baby.'s ringing. It's 11am at this point too...HOLY....he's awake.
Say's the cat kept him awake. Poo... I was so ready to be proven right. Ah well, I've been deflated. This was a boring ending.
MORRIGAN IS HAVING, just kidding. I think I lost my magic. That's it...I'm done. Back to work.

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