Grouch

I told the Butcher to take the car so that I would be forced to clean the bathroom and do the dishes and do some shit for work.

So, I’ve called the Professor and tried to call the Man from GM and I’ve read all the blogs I can think to read and I’ve watched a shitload of rap videos and now I’m listening to classic country and I was working on the afghan, but it’s apparent that I’ve both misjudged how wide the thing should have been* and how much yarn I’d need to make something that wide long enough. So, now working on it just depresses me because I’m going to run out of yarn before it’s done.

And I don’t have the car, so I can’t go to Walmart, which is too bad, because I’d even rather go to Walmart than face what awaits me this afternoon.

I’m really going to have to go upstairs and scrub that tub unless the phone rings right now.

Okay, now.

Well, fuck me. Thanks for nothing, citizens of Earth.

*I imagine all of Duluth, Georgia will be able to wrap itself comfortably in this fucker. I considered unraveling it, but decided that was just madness and procrastination talking, and will just forge ahead.

About these ads

5 thoughts on “Grouch

  1. Shit, I’d be happy to call you except for the fact that I am not privy to your phone number.

    I will do anything to spare myself or my fellow Citizens of Earth against the evil task that is the cleaning of the bathroom. Vile, vile bathrooms! Especially ones that men and boys use!

  2. Thanks, Peg. The other sucky part about it is that we’re apparently out of normal cleaning products, so I had to take on the whole bathroom with nothing but bleach and Dawn.

    Needless to say, I declared, “Well, then, fuck mopping.”

    I’m going to eat some lunch and then do the dishes.

  3. Dear Fellow Travelers,

    I’m in the same boat. I finally got up the gumption to throw in a load of laundry. The house is still trashed from the drunken revelry of Friday night. I’m completely unmotivated to do any of it.

    I wonder if there’s any gin left?

  4. If there’s gin, there’d better be some drunken blogging about your underwear. It’s what your readers demand.

  5. I don’t think there’s that much gin left; besides, I try to limit my drinking and up-latedness on schoolnights, as you know.

Comments are closed.