Not for the Squeamish

Don't you just love the Tuesday morning following a three day weekend?

Yeah.. me neither.

At least it's the first of the month and the accounting department will have our whole system jacked up for most, if not all, of today, leaving me with nothing to do but file. Somehow, even the prospect of shuffling paper for eight hours seems like more than the three functioning brain cells I have this morning can handle.

I spent the better part of my holiday weekend whining about my big toe and trying to dodge Ma, who's been trying to drive me up the proverbial wall so she can call her sister and have it spread all over town that I'm having "anger issues."

She'd better thank God I'm not having "lock Mama in the closet" issues.

Our neighbors recently sold their rental trailer up on the hill by the house. Ma has decided that I must have bought it to move in to. Anytime me or The Amazon go near her she asks me if I'm having it moved down to our yard or if T.A. is moving in.

Oh and? She came strolling in Friday night, careful to wait until I'd spent a small fortune on groceries, slapping a bill down on the counter and informing me that I needed to pay it, she had other things to do with her money this month.

Dang. Must be nice to just pass your bills over to someone else when you don't feel like paying them. She's been doing me like that since I was 17.

Anywho...

I've been  having issues with another relative for the past couple months. Me and Aunt Flo are gonna fight if she doesn't chill the eff out. She used to come around once a month, visit for a few days and then leave. Oh sure, sometimes she'd bring her sisters Crampzilla, Bloatasia and AcneFay and there were days when I thought I'd need a transfusion before she left, leaving a bathroom that would put a CSI crime scene to shame, but she'd eventually leave, taking all her sisters with her and all would be right with the world.

But now?

The bitch will NOT go home. For over a month now, she shows up every damned morning, just long enough to piss me off. I never know if I need to be prepared or not. If she'd just go ahead and do her thing and get it over with, I'm sure we'd all feel better.

I'm so tired of being in a constant state of Bitchy McCrankypants. And... just being tired.

Oh yeah.. my toe.

My whole toenail is like... dark and dead looking. It'll go for days and be fine, then suddenly start bleeding and hurting like a mofo. I know it's just the nail RIPPING away from the nail bed as the new nail grows in, but dang.

Try to control your awe of my sexy. Someday your body parts will start to grow multicolored and leaky in preparation to fall off and you can be sexy too.

I'm depressed.

I need coffee.

I'm gonna go attempt to caffeinate myself while listening to an Outer Banks radio station, daydreaming about the day I move to a little Victorian house on Roanoke Island, far far way from Frog Pond Holler.

A girl's gotta dream.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!