Yesterday was one of those DAYS. Everything I started, I failed on. I tried to transfer some files from the auction lappy to my Hester Prynne. USB cable: disappeared. Magic sticks…I had two, where the hell are they? None of my discs worked, either. WHAT THE HELL. I tried rubbing one on the other to see if osmosis would help. It did not.

I also tried to put Franny’s new loftbed together. I was sure I could knock it out in a couple of hours, no problem. The wood was warped and I only got to step two.

I didn’t make it to the grocery store. Nothing got cleaned. Files didn’t get typed. Emails went unsent.

“Screw this,” I said.

At about four I called Companion at work.

“Can you bring home a bunch of frozen crap?” I said.

“Er…like what?”

“Eggrolls, jalapeno poppers….”

“FRENCH FRIES!” Franny yelled in the background.

“…and french fries.”

He came home with hot dogs, pizza rolls, poppers, and french fries. It was the most unhealthy meal I have eaten in months and it was delicious. I accidentally poured a lake of sweet and sour sauce on my plate, much to the confusion of Strudel.

“Why did you do that, Mom?” she kept asking. She was convinced I was up to something. I failed at pouring sauce.

I was in bed by nine. The sheer unfinishedness of the day wore me out.

In Other News: Bad Poetry Corner

O cat

you rush in

you rush out

squatting

hovering

freezing

when will you remember

you don’t wear pants?

Hey,

So I have some kind of medical issue going on right now. I’m not contagious, or dying, I’m just out of it at the moment and have been for the last week or so. I’m sure I will be perky again as soon as I get the new insurance stuff squared away. I am saying this because I am not going to force myself to post and email seems to be a bit of a foreign concept. I am answering the phone, however, because it is within reach of my grasping claws.

The fever is making me want to say: I love you. Bring home toilet paper and a pineapple.

What I am thinking about today is that our insurance at the new job will cost 1100 dollars more than it would if we were married. Because it is SO much easier to slip off into the night if you’re unmarried with children than if you’re married with children. Hur.

How it went down:

“Sooo…you want to get married, then? It’s like fifty bone or something at the courthouse,” I said.

“Um…what? No. I mean, I would if you wanted to, I guess.”

“Well, no.”

“Oh, good,” he said, obviously relieved. “I know you are so proud of your slattern status and all.”

IT’S TRUE.

Secondly, did you make any resolutions? I have resolved to put pictures of myself up more (CAAAM WHORE) because sometimes I think I am hiding a little bit behind pictures of food or crafts or my kids, when this website is about ME. I get shy because it’s easier to make the words. So you get to spend more time with my goiter and third arm now, you lucky fockers.

I have also made a resolution to, now that my life is calmer and school is behind me, to start working toward my long-term goal to open a bed-and-breakfast. I decided I wanted to when I was 20, had some babies, had a divorce, and had like seven years of school instead. And now it is ten years later and I still want to open and bed-and-breakfast. I have resolved that I will make it happen by the time I’m 40, and I will not be sad if it happens sooner.

Current contenders for room themes are Presidents of the Twentieth Century (you know you want to stay in the Hooverville room)…and that’s it. Maybe Famous Serial Killers? That should bring in the CSI types.

I have never written that down before. That was nice.

Moar later. I have NYE pictures.

Today is frustrating. I am retyping a big stack of documents for work, because there are no electronic files for a yearly event. I need to say that again. No word files of papers that are used every single year. WHA?

Then I picked up my little kid, who was in a bad mood after school as usual. She threw all of her things down on the ground repeatedly, and got really pissed at me and wouldn’t walk when I picked them up. So I tried to carry her, at which point I discovered she wet her pants who knows how long ago, because her tights and skirt were soaked and freezing cold. And then I feel like I am doing a bad job by keeping her in a place that does not notice when children wet themselves. And then she turned and clawed my nose and lips, so I had to carry her backwards.

This makes me miss my big kid more, because she does not claw me in the face, but instead helps me make cookies.

Remind me why I’m doing this, again? And if the answer is YOUR DUM (true) then you are HELLABANNED.

I have five minutes, so I will say that mediation kind of blows. That was the most time I’ve spent with my ex since I moved out four years ago. One thing I didn’t expect was for us to not just have totally different goals, but totally different perspectives as well.

(See, now I’m reading it, and this sounds stupid. Of course we don’t agree. But it was like two people in a room…one thinks you should eat peanut butter sandwiches for every meal, and the other thinks everyone would like to wear puce every day. And the goal is to get the farmer, fox, and chicken across the river. Where do you go from there?)

I was all excited on Saturday about how much progress we’d made, and then he sent an email undoing everything. If he doesn’t recant, we are back to square one for our next session.

Well, I will know what to expect. One less thing to fear.

Moar later.

Here we go down the rabbit hole again! I have first mediation with SeaFed on Saturday, to deal with the custody re-arrangements. I have submitted about six inches of documents and I feel ready. Well, as ready as I can be, considering I have never gone to mediation. I have plans to go out to a movie with friends after, which I am excited about, because my usual MO is to go and…be flat (that’s as much of a plan as I usually have) after these sorts of things.

Last Friday I had the twice-yearly parent-teacher conference with SeaFed. Frannie presents her work and talks about what she’s been doing in class. SeaFed had very few questions. In fact, I only remember him asking one–about her math fact memorization, which he was hammering last year, too. I think math is important as well, but I had a lot of questions. I can’t judge how well I’m doing by that, but while I was talking to her teacher I brought up ongoing issues and I felt like I knew what was going on. I got a feeling from him, by his follow-up questions and body language, that he doesn’t.

I try to take some things Franny says with a grain of salt, or a bucket in some cases. But she tells me things. I know her stepmother’s been taking care of her for quite a while now, especially while he was still holding down a job. The other day she told me she’s been fighting with her stepmother over bedtime because she’s sassy and gets stories taken away (I believe she’s sassy, for sure).

“Why is your stepmom putting you to bed now?” I said.

“Oh, lately my dad doesn’t come home until after bedtime sometimes,” she said.

So I don’t know. I think my hunch about him being out of it is right on. So I am telling myself that if he comes into mediation with…himself, the way he is, and his parenting plan, things should be interesting. I’ll put the meeting up on Youtube. I kid, I kid.

ALSO, it only took me five years to get up the nerve to send something to McSweeney’s but I did it the other day. And later that night, after I sent it, I realized I used the word “Slashdot” when I meant “Metafilter.” Maybe I should have waited another five years. FAIL. Well, I’m glad I got over it and faced my fear. Today, a rejection notice from McSweeney’s, tomorrow a rejection notice from Penthouse Fantasy Forum. After this mediation thing settles down, I am going to find some other places to be rejected from. The sky’s the limit, baby!

If you have itchy writing fingers and you wish to relive the time you dumped Jello all over yourself in front of the boy you liked in middle school, I advise you to head of to my friend’s new site, Can I Sit with You? They are taking submissions about school hell, but be sure to read the guidelines.