If my life was made into a scratch-n-sniff book it would smell like crap.
Right now I’m procrastinating. I’m avoiding my bathroom and the smell in there and choosing instead to blog to cope with reality. But I really need to get ready, I look like a street walker right now with unmanageable hair and smeared up eyes from another disastrous encounter with liquid eyeliner. I’m suppose to go up to Ben’s work today and bring my child- well dressed and groomed- to have lunch, and I need to leave SOON.
Instead I choose to panic in 15 minutes and just sit here. Hopefully uninterrupted by my child, playing happily in the next room. Stay, boy.
I was on task a half hour ago, but nooooooo fate would see that all screwed up for it’s own devious purposes intent on making me insane, I’m sure. and it’s working… So, I was attempting to apply the liquid eyeliner because the girl at clinique said I had “greasy eyelids” and I’ve been a paranoid wreck ever sense, hating my greasy eyelids and buying tons of products to make a base coat or whatever and nothing works so my eyeliner always smears all over my eyes looking horrible then someone said, “hey why don’t you try liquid eyeliner? it doesn’t smear.” and here I am today. They failed to mention how impossible it is to apply and my shaking hands get worse when I try to concentrate on something as important as applying a straight line of liquid eyeliner.
now Summit is eating cat food, dang it! NO!
As I was trying to fix my prostitute looking eyelids, I noticed a smell. Snickerdoodle was pooping on my towel! What the heck cat? he never does crap like that! I screamed at him, startling Summit who had wondered in and was happily throwing things into the bath tub. His poop is the worse thing ever invented in the history of smelly things. It is all things sulfur, rotting and putrid. I started gagging and chased Snickers around the house yelling at him and finally threw him into the garage. Then I realized that Sum was still in the bathroom, ohdeargod, and ran back towards my room shrieking, “don’t touch Snickers poop!” and he hadn’t. Good boy. I then picked up the offending towel and walked into the garage to the trash and Snickers escaped. Grrrrrr-ing, I ran back inside and started to chase him around the house again, he is clever and dodged me. I finally caught him because I am human and a superior creature and carried him back into the now smelly garage and dumped water on him.
Then I realized that I had left Sum in the bathroom. With an open toilet. I ran back towards my room shrieking, “don’t touch the toilet!” and he HAD. He was happily splashing, up to his elbows, in his OWN POOP. That I had failed to flush earlier before my whole street-walker-eye-fiasco. Which I still need to fix. Happy Birthday offspring. He’s eating my ipod headphones right now, I really have to go and put on my make-up, fix my unmanageable hair, get dressed, get him dressed, in the car and up to Bentonville in the next 15 minutes. Just another day in my life. But, honestly, you know what? I so wouldn’t trade it for anything.