You saw the heading of this post. You have been warned.
It has been a rough week, guys. Not completely horrible, but… Payday is tomorrow, so money is tight. However, because we knew money was going to be extra tight this week we planned like the champs that we are! That’s right. We meal planned for the week on Sunday. We bought our groceries, and stayed within budget. We made sure the car had enough gas in it, and were careful to not make any superfluous trips. We double checked and made SURE that we had a little cushion (I’m talking pin cushion sized wiggle room here) just in case something small came up, such as our little man hitting another freak growth spurt wherein he eats 5 days worth of food in an hour (it’s happened, and it’s terrifying). We were set! Booyah.
Then shit happened.
Why does shit never happen during the weeks when you have time and resources to handle anything that the world can throw at you? Shit always waits until the worst possible time, and then it finds a fan, and flings itself at it repeatedly.
SO, here’s the skinny. After all our very careful preparation for the week, we were none too pleased to discover that our pin cushion of safety? Gone. Our bank is notorious for charging “service fees” at different times each month, and we’re broke artsy people. Having $10 in our account to cover such things shouldn’t be a big deal, but to us $10 goes a long way. That is, unless the bank decides to swipe it from our account without telling us until the next day. Lovely. But, as long as we stick to our plan we would still be fine, right?
On Tuesday evening I was cooking our planned meal for the next two days (Mushroom walnut casserole. I’ll share it with ya sometime!) when I looked out the back window to see if the cat wanted in, and I noticed that we seemed to have one or two unexpected guests. Luckily they were ants, so they shouldn’t eat too much, and there were only a few of them so shooing them outside would be no biggie, right?
Wrong again. When I looked up again some minutes later, a swarm of CARPENTER ANTS had descended upon the back wall of my utility room. Readers, if you ever want to see me go from zero to batshit crazy in less than 3 seconds, show me a swarm of ants. If you want to see me hit levels of nuts previously only known to the less desirable characters from Harry Potter (think Bellatrix), place that swarm inside my house. It wasn’t pretty. And there was no ant spray in sight.
Had it not been for the Hippie having the presence of mind to spray them with a strong household cleaner that we only keep around for the flu season purge, the beasts would still be wreaking havoc on the infrastructure of our home. As it is, an exterminator will be coming to the house sometime soon so our landlord can get an idea of how much damage was done before we found them, and there is an ant graveyard (less creepy than an elephant graveyard, but still pretty grisly) in the back of my house. I’ve cleaned what I can reach, but the upstarts had the indecency to die where I couldn’t make a bonfire out of their six legged bodies as a warning to others. Rude.
The final piece of the “well, that sucks” puzzle of my week? Remember that overshare warning? Let me reiterate it.
*OVERSHARE WARNING* TURN BACK NOW UNLESS YOU WISH TO BE TRULY DISTURBED.
Really. You’ve been warned.
Last chance, yo.
Hokay, here goes.
Know what sucks? Yeast infections when the bank has taken away your means of purchasing the magical stuffs to make that nastiness go back to the depths of burning hell from which it spawned. Fortunately for me, my midwife recommended using garlic as a means of clearing one up when I was pregnant without exposing a babe to the gnarliness that is the traditional medication used to get rid of that little problem. Still. If my next child isn’t born craving Italian food, I will be surprised. And before anyone asks, NO. I am not pregnant.
Bank. Ants. Garlicky nethers. This week calls for wine. In copious quantities.
Why did I share this all with you, my poor, innocent audience? Two reasons.
One: Because it can ALWAYS get worse. Wasting energy moping about something isn’t going to help, steals your joy, and steals your emotional energy, which totally kills your ability to handle the next curveball. There will always be a next curve ball.
Two: Because, let’s be honest. It’s kindof funny. I hope it made you chuckle at least a little! Trust me, I have. And if I can laugh at the gross factor of this week, then I think I’m going to be ok.
a “never in my life have I taken so many showers in one day” me