So the bitch got up, unplugged my computer, and threw out my wine.
The Incredibles start, and the boys are watching it. I’m on the couch with my laptop, thinking of something to blog. I should really be studying, but doze off for a few minutes. Next thing I know, the Man knocks over my Coke. I snap at him telling him to watch what he is doing and to get a towel. After we clean it up, I ask him what he was doing. He holds up his pillow, and says, “I was giving you my pillow for your head.” Awwww, how sweet make me feel like shit.
He climbs on the couch next to me and says, “I’m going to read this book Mama.” I asked how he was going to read and watch the movie at the same time. “Mama, I have both eyes. One for the movie, one for the book. Everyone has both eyes.”
Last week we took a trip to Little Rock. We went to Chuck E Cheese, Target, and Coldstone Creamery. While at target we told the boys we were going to go get ice cream. The Dude and the Man thought it was fun to shout, “I want ASS cream! I want ASS cream!”
Have you ever just done something without thinking? Then right, just as you do it, something in the back of your head says, “STOP” but you just don’t listen and keep on going? Then you look at the result of your actions and think WTF did I do? Yeah . . .
I decided to paint today. I have this cabinet that I bought a few years ago at a garage sale for $3. At Wal*Mart I found some black paint on clearance for $3 an a can of that “stone” spray paint. Mind you, I’m a quick result, quick response person. I grew up with a microwave, where you can get a full complete 3 or 4 course meal in 5 minutes. I can download and entire song in 2.3 seconds on my cell phone. My bank gives you $5 if you aren’t through the drive through in 5 minutes. Quick results. Quick response.
Painting does not fit into the quick results, quick response area. It was fun painting at first, then I realized that I still have 3 sides to do, plus the drawers. I rotate painting and spray painting. Which just gets spray paint over my paint. So I repaint. Mind you, I’m doing this in my dining room, yes inside my house. Again, wtf was I thinking.
As I paint, stroking and stroking, up and down, wax on, wax off, I think, “geesh this paint is thick.” Thick and shiny. Thick and shiny. Wax on, wax off. Finally, done. I’m satisfied with my work, except I’ll need to do another spray paint coat outside tomorrow. It takes me all of 15 minutes to paint, quick action, quick response. If I really had wanted it to look nice, I would’ve had my mother-in-law come and paint it, which would have taken her, eh 2 hours maybe.
I take the brush into the kitchen and turn on the hot water to rinse it out. I take my hand and rustle the bristles. STOP! Ohhh, I heard it, but kept going. Pure black, glossy, enamel paint. All over my hand. What do I do? Ohh! Take the OTHER hand and rustle the bristles. STOP! ohhhh damn. Literally pure black hands. Both of them. Damn damn damn.
Thankfully Mike had taken the Baby to pick up the Dude. The Man was playing the x-box, so it gave me time to hide my mess before Mike came back home (only to make fun of me). Palmolive cuts grease! Two uses of that, no luck. SOS! Yeah, one large steel sponge, a bit better, but no luck. I jump into the shower. Irish spring, no go. Pantene, nope. St Ives apricot scrub, gets some of it off. Toss on the burgundy Victoria’s Secret robe that my husband wears as much as me, and take 309,855,309,258 cotton balls and all I have left of nail polish remover. It takes off most of it. I still have black hands. Hopefully it will wear off before I work this weekend, or before clinicals on Monday!
That’s what I get when I reprimand the Dude. “You’re fired mom.” I asked him if he knew what that meant, and of course he says “I dunno know.”
