Sunday, August 8, 2010

I Believe the Correct Term May Just Be Boredom. . . or Depression . . . or Perhaps Both . . .

So did you ever have one of those days when lifting your morning cup of coffee seemed like too much work?

Well, my friends, welcome to A Mom on Spin's day.

You see, first I had to wake up.  And we all know how hard that is. Not to mention the whole getting out of bed thing. . . and the shower. .  .oh, the shower. . .

Now, as if that weren't enough, Drip Dry left for his early-morning golf game without feeding the dog which requires things like bending over. . . running water. .  .and yelling at the stupid cat that she doesn't need a human to watch her eat.  And, when all of that was satisfactorily completed, I still had to slide open the door to let the dog outside and plop myself on my back deck while attempting to lift the afore-mentioned cup.

Work . . . all of it.

And then, the fact that it was Sunday presented a whole host of  other problems.

First, there was the church outfit to don . .  .and the whole pulling and tugging and smoothing of the wrinkles in the pants which desperately needed ironing but I deemed passable.

I'm exhausted just thinking of it.

And then there was church itself. .  . which, for mere mortals, might entail nothing more than sitting down, saying some silent prayers, and muttering a few Amens. . . you know. . . like watching a ball game.   But seeing that my salary also comes from very place in which I worship, attending Mass is more like a contact sport.  I walk in the door and people start tossing things at me like. .  . The urinal in the downstairs men's room is broken. .  .or . . . . The key to the toilet paper dispenser is missing .  . or. . .  Yesterday's funeral people took the wedding flowers home . . .

And so upon hearing that bit of bad news, I immediately decided to forego my trip to Sunday farmer's market and opt for the peace and quiet of my own home. 

But then, as if I life hadn't punished me enough for one day, I was informed by Ponzi upon my return home that I needed to take my darling offspring on the first of many off-to-college shopping trips.  Now Trigger, being the smart procrastinator that I raised her to be, muttered something about needing new bedding because she had cut up last year's sheets for a toga party, but decided to worry about that another day. And even though Ponzi could spend my money freely in Italy on items like her leather school bag, it seems that her mother absolutely must accompany her to purchase things like the all-important dorm room trash can.

And - while the entire shopping trip drained every remaining ounce of money and energy I had while in the Bed and Bath department . . . I can only thank God for the Beyond part, 'cause I finally got the new wine glasses which I so desperately needed.  ('Cause the old ones were so heavy, you know.)

Now if I could only get Drip Dry to open my box of wine for me. .  .

 Oh, and go ahead and comment, 'cause I'm as obsessed as ever anyhow . .  .