Trying…trying…trying…NOPE

Oy, will someone please knock me out?  That way I can be worthless without being cognizant of how worthless I am.

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I have a very small list of things I need to do before Thursday.  It shouldn’t be a big deal if I spread it out over the next few days.  After realizing the rate at which I’m completing my tasks, the rate at which various body parts are becoming injured by doing things they’re SUPPOSED to do, I’ve had to totally recalibrate my list and future sleeping arrangements.

I cleaned out the lizard tank today, then put it up on a shelf in the office.  My back went out in the process, thus a clean lizard tank is the only thing that will be getting done today and possibly for the foreseeable future.  This, after my hip (or colon, or kidney? fuck if I know) kept me up all of Friday night with its bitching, then my knee notified me this morning that I shouldn’t plan to do stairs today unless I want to break my face on the floor at the foot of the stairs.  My face looks better where it is rather than becoming a schmear on the floor, so I complied.

What the fuck happened to me?  When did my warranty run out?  I need a complete hardware rebuild.

I know it’s ridiculous to dissociate from my faulty parts, then pick fights with them but damn it, this is ridiculous.

I have this to say to all of my broken parts: FUCK YOU.  I feel better now and that’s the whole point of treating these broken parts as separate entities.  I benefit from cursing at myself.  Cursing, in general, has a way of making me feel better no matter what the situation.  Never underestimate the power of naughty words.

As I was sorting through the junk in the office earlier, I found my box of earplugs.  This discovery will solve a few problems.  Snoring, coughing, and distant screeching will be sufficiently muffled.  That’s a huge relief.

All I have left to do is move out of the guest bedroom, make the bed and clean the bathroom.  I can do it.  I can do it.  I can do it.  Maybe.  Nope.  Fuck it, Harpy can do it.

14 thoughts on “Trying…trying…trying…NOPE

  1. Not only is she coming she is kicking you out of your bed? No fucking way. Have the harpy bunk with her precious boy. They make a pair. Since he doesn’t have A pair, this will be a fine situation.
    I threw my back out too. I have a friend coming into town tomorrow. S is going to have to clean the bathroom and vacuum.
    He’d actually be mad if I attempted to do it. You need a S.
    I did do some laundry…bad girl. Now my back screams. And I’m bored.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I made him a to-do list on Friday. Think any of it will get done? He took the boxes to recycling yesterday, and today he has been asleep since 10am. It’s what, 3:30 now? I asked him to clean the master bathroom because I’ll be sharing it with him while his Mom is here (I told him I’d clean the bathroom I’ve been using, which is easy because I’m not the giant nasty beast he is) and as of right now, it’s a biohazard zone. Grrrrrrrross! I do need to upgrade my husband. He’s trapped in a 1950’s mindset. Fucking gender roles.

      Boo, bad backs. I hope it feels better soon!

      Liked by 1 person

      • Upgrade your husband…now that’s an idea. MC2.0, snort. I know S will get things done, he just waits until the last minute and it drives me crazy.
        He’s going to be mad, I vacuumed today. Ouch. Really I took some cannibus oil and my back feels better. Wish it was that easy for you.
        Of course I’m probably hurting myself.
        Oh and the master bath in our house is gross too. He will be doing that today, as I will have to use it while Kym is here.
        Even a welcome visitor can cause anxiety. I’m nervous.
        I hope your back feels better.
        Hopefully both of our backs will feel better soon.
        I really shouldn’t have vacuumed. 😕

        Like

    • He’s a sonofabitch. He has an infinite amount of energy to do the things he wants to do, but ask him to do anything not fun and he’ll immediately get into bed for a nap or say he has a headache, then sit in front of the TV for 6 hours. I tell him to take some ibuprofen and he’s like, “nah”.

      I’m unsure how much shit is the appropriate amount of shit to give him for acting this way. He did have his chest cracked open six months ago. From my perspective, he’s selectively unwell. I wish my wellness operated on a switch, too. 😏

      Like

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