This Sign Says it All.

Forty Eight Hours of Annoyed

Last week, exhausted after a frustrating day and sad about the end of summer I sent my poor husband the following email.


Annoying things that have happened to me in the last 48 hours.

Unsecured metal shower curtain fell on my head while shampooing.

Dog's unwiped butt spread poop all over my newly laundered bed spread (two nights in a row)

I still have no sink in my bathroom.

Two trips to the Giant foiled when all baskets were spoken for so I took only what I could carry, which was enough to feed one of our three children for one meal. Oh and also there was no parking so I had to walk three blocks with my purchases.

My basement has been completely over run by aggressive and entitled cockroaches. All sleepover activity has been suspended since "cockroach gate" when one infiltrated the tent my daughter and her friend were sleeping in.

I spotted two rats looking like they were planning a coup in my backyard.

Speaking of the backyard, the unchecked growth of weeds and other undetermined plant life now rivals the pictures I see of the Amazon Rain Forest.

The last few "free" things I tried to do with my kids ended up costing me hundreds of dollars (cab fare, parking, food, etc.)


The last two attempts to play ball out front on the sidewalk resulted in the ball rolling in the street and quickly down the slope of the alley to be lost forever.

The entire front facing wall of my bedroom is collapsing from water damage caused by a leaky roof.

My larger dog is suffering with some sort of vile ear infection.

I have picked up ripped garbage bags and their former contents no less than two times today. (Again, thank you dogs)

My kids are screaming and wrestling in my living room seemingly unable to hear my pleas for quiet and calm.

We are out of checks and the cleaning lady is giving me the evil eye as she sweeps my filth and waits for my lame excuse.

Renew,Restore, Replenish

I love the beach. We are home now, I am still unpacking and frankly it's making me want to run back to the minivan and head straight for the ocean again. Almost everyone suffers from a "woe as me complex" as they watch the sun, surf and sand fade in the distance of the rear view mirror, but this vacation was so good that I found myself getting melancholy and misty eyed two days prior to departure. All I could think of was how poorly my real life measured up to my beach existence. I tried to give myself a mental "snap out of it" slap, because who am I to complain really? "You don't have it so bad!" I chided myself. Then suddenly I heard my mothers voice.

"You know who has it bad? The loincloth clad guy sleeping in the brush in sub Saharan Africa with a bush baby perched on his head, waiting in terrifying darkness for the man eating lion pride that devoured his whole village to come and finish him off. Now THAT'S a guy who's earned the right to feel sorry for himself missy, not you".

True, but i still want to have my rear end planted firmly in a beach chair while I watch the waves roll in.