Exasperate: (tr. v) to cause irritation or annoyance to; to make more grievous.
Oh, this day.
Day, you can go eff yourself.
I woke up with a migraine. Not a huge deal, but definitely not something fun when you have to spend eight hours sitting in front of a computer. I dragged my crazy-haired self out of the bed and stumbled to the living room to get the Excedrin from my purse, and I guess I must have gritted my teeth in reaction to the throbbing pain in my head because the next thing I knew I had chunked a piece of my tooth off and jammed it right up into my gum line. This tooth was one of three that broke two weeks ago, and I was less than thrilled to lose yet another piece of it, let alone to have that piece lodged in my gums.
Before I really even had time to process that, I heard my oldest two boys having a very heated argument in their bedroom, one that sounded like it was quickly progressing towards fisticuffs, so I veered away from my precious Excedrin towards their bedroom only to slip most ungracefully in a nice warm puddle of dog piss. My little dog sat not too far away, glaring at me as though I was the one who had done something wrong by disturbing her gift to me.
I grabbed a kitchen rag and tried to soak up some of the urine but had to stop so I could break up the near-fistfight happening in the boys' bedroom (an argument, I might add, that was over a piece of paper. Yes. A piece of paper). My peacekeeping efforts earned me ugly looks from both boys, who then huffed their snotty little way out the door to the bus stop without so much as a goodbye to their mother.
By that time my youngest child had woken up and in that short span of time somehow managed to make a ridiculous mess with the face paint that his sister had used for a science project the night before. I cleaned the pee off the floor, took the dog outside so she could stand around not peeing in the grass while I swore at her, and came back inside to clean the face paint off of my kitchen table and floor and child. I sent the child off to get dressed and turned to my daughter, who was standing in the living room weeping dramatically about a giant knot in her hair that she couldn't get out.
I took a few minutes to brush that knot out, only to be faced with two tennis shoes belonging to the face paint child whose shoelaces were so full of knots that I considered letting him wear sandals to school in 40 degree weather. Instead, I got a fork and sat right down on the floor and began the painstaking process of removing the knots from the shoelaces, all the while trying not to cry because I still had not managed to ingest any Excedrin.
Cue the next scene, which consisted of neither child being able to find their jacket, daughter not being able to find her glasses, and face paint child deciding he was NOT going to school until he finished the homework he forgot to do the night before, which I belatedly discovered after he had unpacked his entire backpack and launched the contents into various places in the living room whilst looking for the homework paper.
At this point I am still in my pajamas, with wildly unkempt hair, morning breath and blood on my face from the tooth shard, and it was approximately seven minutes after I normally leave the house for work. To put that in perspective, all of this happened before it was even seven o'clock in the morning. Have you ever wished for Valium or liquor before seven in the morning? I certainly have. Not even gonna hesitate to admit that.
Somehow, I finally managed to get the kids off to before-school care only to realize that in the craziness of the morning, I had completely forgotten to put on deodorant. Thanks to a remarkable lack of traffic, I had enough time to make an emergency stop for underarm stank defender stick on the way to my office.
Things went relatively uneventfully until lunch, when my dear friend went out and picked up Mexican food for us and another co-worker. The only thing I wanted was cheese dip. I tend to lose my appetite when I'm anxious or stressed, but cheese dip sounded mighty delicious to my tubby little self. Friend arrives back at work to dole out the foods, and lo and behold those *INSERT LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS OF EXPLETIVES HERE* restaurant people forgot to include my cheese dip with the order.
So. I pulled up my big girl panties and took a much needed break outside with the aforementioned food-fetching friend, only to end up with a GIGANTIC spider crawling up my leg. I know she would argue with me about the size of the spider, but you can trust me. It was huge. Much, MUCH bigger than the tip of a pencil, people.
It is now 9:52 p.m. and I am finally relaxing at home with my husband and a much needed glass of whiskey. The migraine is still kicking, but the pee is gone and the spider is dead and every last bit of the face paint is in the trash. I am going to bed with the firm belief that tomorrow, if it knows what's good for it, will be a drastically better day than today.
Sweet dreams, darlings.