… and while you’re at it, stop asking me if my dog shrunk.
Jesus, how many times can I hear the same joke?
I’m feeling brittle right now because everyone (everyone) is being mean to me, and I’m just trying keep our house livable. Thanks for not helping.
Lonny has been on my case because I put the giant beanbag on Freecycle. It was snapped up within minutes. My rationale for Freecycling was:
1) It was given to me for free, therefore it would be kind of lame to profit from it.
2) If it was so valuable, why didn’t the people who gave it to me sell it?
3) I think it’s kind of strange that the boys assume that we sell everything in this house and are obsessed with resale value. Seriously, they’ve asked me if I was going to “sell” Frank and the first thing Scrotus wanted to know was how much the kitten cost. Because so much commerce centers around our home, they assume that everything that comes and goes is a transaction. Like the cat.
Well, it turns out those things are very pricey brand new, as Lonny made abundantly clear by repeatedly showing me webpages with the selling price.
I had already confirmed that someone could pick it up and I felt like it would be wrong to call him and tell him to forget it. Maybe I’m too wimpy, but I feel strange about promising something and then reneging, especially when the guy was on his way over.
I told Lonny that if he couldn’t get the bag in his car, Lonny could jump in and say forget it.
Wouldn’t you know, he managed to shove it in the back of his car (a miracle) and I went to grab the cover for him but Lonny was like, “Keep the cover! We can sell those!” but I was like, “The ad said it came with a corduroy cover and pillows.”
Why do we have to sell everything? Why can’t we be a little more normal?
I’m just psyched it’s gone but instead of being a little happy that we have floorspace again (you know, positivity) Lonny was like, “I thought it was cool. We should have kept it. We could have sold it for $100. I bet tomorrow it will be on Craigslist.”
Why are you torturing me?! I get it and I screwed up but it’s not like it cost anything and why is this the first time I’ve heard you say that you liked it and didn’t you look disapprovingly at me when I got it in the first place?
Then I cleaned up the room a little and a friend came over and she was like, “Whoa! What happened in there? It looks great! Wasn’t that a junky room?”
Why yes, it was, and thank you for noticing the improvement. Why is it that only women appreciate me?
Of course the boys howled with discontent because I gave away the bean bag and cleaned up their Legos, which appeared to be a disorganized jumble but apparently I screwed up an extremely complex system.
Fuck it. FUCK. IT!
You all want to live in a pigsty? Go right ahead. Me and the cat are going to our room.
Time to cut the crap. Not that anyone in this house cares.