DeadpanAnn (old blogger version)

It rained today, but not before I got all of TH's scrubs hung out on the line and forgot them. (He insists that they will shrink if I dry them.) I hung them out this morning, and should have brought them in this afternoon, but I forgot. Actually, I walked right past them twice and thought yeah yeah in a minute, so I don't know if that qualifies as forgetting, but for the sake of not getting bitched at for being irresponsible, I'm saying I forgot.

We were in the bedroom relaxing and uh..talking when I noticed that a light rain was falling. I just thought it was fabulous, because who doesn't like to be in bed smooching with their honey while a light rain is falling? A few minutes later, the rain realllly started pouring. And no, that is not meant as a metaphor. I mean the rain in the sky came down to the earth, and hard. TH's eyes got big, and he said, in a very alarmed tone, "Is it raining!?" Thinking that he was just really tense, (and that I had the antidote) I said, "Yeah, isn't it nice?" He screeched, "The clothes! My work clothes! Those are all the work clothes I have for tomorrow! There's no way to get them dry now!" And my head hit the pillow of disappointment as he jumped up and ran out of the room to take care of his clothes.

Thanks a lot, RAIN!

I have a tendency to get all the chores in the house done, then not do them again for three weeks. I'm still used to the days of having roommates, when you did a chore one time and then waited until everyone else had done it, then did it again. The point is that between my blurred sense of reality and that throat bug that knocked me out for two days and then turned into an ear infection (which I still have, by the way) our laundry really got piled up. In the last 2 days, I have done approximately 10 loads. How two people can generate so much laundry is beyond me. I think the carpets actually excrete dirty laundry. It seems to appear out of nowhere, no matter how much of it I have done. On top of all that, I have also vacuumed the hell out of this house with my spiffy new Eureka Boss SmartVac 4870, which arrived yesterday.

My point is...

Well, maybe I don't really have one tonight. Maybe the point is that my husband worries too much. Maybe it's that the rain's timing was a bitch. Maybe the point is that I suck as a housewife. Maybe I just feel worthless and bitter, because my house is always dirty regardless of whether I try to keep it clean, even though doing that one thing is the one thing I'm supposed to be doing. I mean, my kitchen floor is already dirty and I really cleaned it good yesterday, I mean I put my back into it, you know? You could've eaten off of it. I wouldn't recommend it, but if you had to, it would probably have been okay. And now it's dirty, and when I pointed it out, TH said, "That's how it goes."

Thanks, TH. Drop some more crumbs, then hand me that cast iron skillet and turn around, umkay?

I'm not cut out for this housewife stuff. I'm not. If I had a young'un, I think it would be worth it. I'd like to stay home for a few years with my young'uns. But as far as having the upkeep of the house as my one and only responsibility? No thank you. And no thank you on having the one exciting moment of my day interrupted because I suck at staying on top of it.

I'm bored.

I might be having something stuck up my anus on Thursday, so that should liven things up! That's right. My semicolon has really been giving me trouble. I had to go to the doctor yesterday because of my ear infection, so I decided to bring it up. Keep in mind that I started having problems 2 years ago. It took a full year for anyone to do a CT scan, and since then I've continued having pain almost every day, not to mention bouts of explosive diarrhea, even though I follow instructions that are supposed to prevent said pain and power-pooping. When I go to the doctor for it, they give me some non-solution solution, like "Take this antibiotic," which doesn't really help if you have giant tears in the colon, if you know what I'm saying. So I was very firm with the doctor yesterday, and I told him I had been dealing with it for two years and that I know that it's something more serious than what they've said, because if I only had what they said I had wouldn't be having problems constantly. So I asked him to refer me to a gastroenterologist. Did I spell that right? I'm not looking it up. I'd rather write three sentences about how it might be misspelled than stop typing to check. I'm on a roll.

So I finally have an appointment with a specialist who should be able to edit my semicolon once and for all, I hope. I just don't see how they can come up with a proper diagnosis without sticking a camera up my ass, frankly. When I first found out all this trouble was indeed my colon, I was scared to death of the thought of having something stuck up there, but it never happened. At this point, I welcome it. They can hang a flagpole from it for an afternoon as long as I don't feel it and it gets me one step closer to not having constant pain and explosive diarrhea.

Okay, now that I've written about at least 3 ultra-personal things to strangers and semi-strangers, I can rest. Goodnight, my loyal reader(s).