Ain’t That Some Shit?

Here goes. you may need a drink for this one.

I got a contractor for the garage door installation. Got it, paid for it, ready to go. They call yesterday, “can you be here today between 3-5?” uhhhh shit no. that’s the one time today I have clients!! but it’s the last opening until late next week. ok. wait hang on. I call Smurf and he comes to my rescue. He’ll come hang out while the guy does his magic.

We get all of that settled and details laid out and I go on with my clients (thank you GOD!) and my phone rings.

this garage door opener won’t work. in fact, there isn’t one what will work. ya see, there’s this “drop down” in the attic ceiling that’s been fashioned up there that won’t allow a normal garage door opener bla bla bla fucking bla. the garage door itself? it’s not a normal size. it’s been FUCKING CUT DOWN TO SIZE. basically, you’re fucked. fucked. fucked.

Ledge? why yes, thank you. I’ll climb up!
Crazy? Oh yes, I’ve been running low. make mine a double.
A side of Complete Meltdown to go with your drink? FUCK YES I WILL. bring it on.

and Kikimama is having runny poop. Remember when i told you all how she was clingy? something is wrong. I must get her to the doc hopefully tomorrow.

and I’m having the company Christmas pre-party on Sunday. and the house is primed, just a few things to put in closets and things to set up but that will happen this weekend.

and I have a mouse. I’m sure of it. Sambo is on the hunt. I’ve moved the dishes out of the pantry to enable him in his murdering. But we’ve got company coming so he’s on a time limit.

and Stormy has begun to eat my Christmas tree.
and the tree skirt.

So. after the meltdown that was of mythical porportions, I looked up and realized that bitch of a full moon has me PMS’ing with the vengence of a prom queen that’s been stood up. but while in the midst of it, all I could think about was that I bought a bad house. The biggest solo decision I’ve ever made and I made a bad one. Badder than bad. Worser than worse. pathetic. and of course I crawl up onto the cross and nail myself to it and before I can bust out with a verse or two of Swing Low Sweet Chariot—I snap out of it.

fucking full moon and hormones. it really is uncivilized.

Ok. I have a plan. I’m returning the 182.00 garage door opener back to Lowes. We’ll just credit that right back to my card. That will make it happy. I will also get the 110.00 back for the installation. I will call my childhood handy friend and have him come over, and just get the garage door to the point of staying open and not falling on my car so I can use it. And fix it so it will lock at night. I will pay him with cinnamon rolls and a bottle of tequila. and some money too. but hopefully not a lot.

I will get Kiki to the vet tomorrow when I am supposed to go to weight watchers. I feel like my ass and thighs have spread. Could be the glue/chicken noodles I’ve eaten every day this week. Could be that.

OH, and because she’s probably riddled with the brain cancer, she jumped up on the cabinet/stove tonight and I think she burnt her little pads on the still hot burner that was on from my grilled cheese/glue that I ate for supper. bless her little heart. she’s living in the linen closet in the hallway this week.

Sammy has a few more days to kill that mouse or I’m crackin skulls.

speaking of–I need to get to Dr. McCrackin. with all the manic meltdowns, I”m sure my spine is as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. why not, right?

so that’s been my week up till now.

How’s yours?