Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Word of the day: frustration

Frustration: (n) the feeling of being upset or annoyed, especially because of inability to change or achieve something.

I just typed and re-typed my Facebook status about seven times before the light bulb went off in my head and I realized that the length of what I was trying to say really belonged here in my blog and not in someone's news feed, so here I sit at the computer writing up the not-so-condensed version of what I was trying to Facebook about.

I just used Facebook as a verb.

I apologize.

Anyway. I would really like to be gently dropping off into dreamland right now, tucked comfortably in my king-sized bed next to my snoring husband and my fat little dog who has a habit of sleepily licking the calf of my snoring husband until she falls asleep, much to the husband's dismay. Instead I'm sitting up wide awake, flinching at the relentless, seemingly unending chirp of an unknown creature that has taken up residence somewhere in my yard and who has single-handedly ruined the past two nights of rest for me. (.....wait. Would that be, "sextuple-leggedly ruined the past two nights of rest for me"? I am so sorry. I'm really tired. I don't know. I'll stop.)

When I realized that tonight was to become a repeat of last night - that is, me tossing and turning in the bed until midnight at which point I sought refuge in the living room in my recliner, trying desperately to escape the persistent chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp of this maniacal creature, and then laying in my recliner for hours almost falling asleep but being jerked unpleasantly out of restfulness every couple of seconds by this stupid, stupid bug that wouldn't shut up - I did what any sane person would do. I grabbed up a hand towel and marched out the front door and ran through my yard making overly emphasized hissing noises and smacking all of the trees and bushes in my landscaping realm with the hand towel, confident that I would save the day and rid myself and my husband of this pompous ass of an insect.

I don't think for one second while I was out there entertaining traffic with my hand towel antics that this bug stopped chirping. It didn't even remotely try to humor me. It just kept chirping its stupid chirpy little head off, and I got mad and said swear words and stormed back inside and slammed the door and threw the hand towel on the floor and grabbed my phone and started angrily trying to type the Facebook status that would eventually end up as this blog post.

I think secretly I'm hoping that if I sit here typing this blog for long enough, the bug will miraculously go away or be quiet or spontaneously combust into a fiery pit of raging flames while simultaneously being dismembered and struck by lightning. I'm not picky. I just want it to STOP.



  1. I wish I had been driving by at that very moment to see that

  2. Except for the towel antics, this was exactly my night. Except I never made it to the living room. But the damn thing is STILL outside of my bedroom window chirping happily and I think I'm slowly going mad. Feel your pain.