Making Up Is Hard to Do

What a week. I've been fucking busy, like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. Except, you know, unless something really bad happens, I'm always going to have two legs.

Always

Shall I give you a quick recap of what's gone on this week? No? Well, fuck off, you're getting one anyway, chief.

Monday: Scramble in the morning to get everyone out the door on time with everything they need for school: backpacks, homework, books, lunch money. Suffer from intense indigestion as I roll the car down the street to the gas station, hoping that I can scrape together enough spare change and/or suck sufficient dick for nickels in hopes of having enough money to put a couple of gallons of gas in car. Succeed in gassing up car. Get daughter to school on time for chorus. Get son home in time for school bus. Get to work at decent time. Get phone call telling how daughter lost her lunch money. Curse. Like a sailor.

Tuesday: Get awakened balls-ass early by shrieking child threatening to throw up. Sit in bathroom on the edge of the tub (uncomfy) in boxers while child coughs, spits garbage into the toilet, then decides he's not going to puke. Says he doesn't want to go to school. Give in to his wishes. Crawl back into bed. Have puky child crawl into bed with you. Try--and fail--to fall back asleep whilst puky child thrashes around in bed beside you like an epileptic watching anime. Get up. Get daughter ready for school. Get in car to go get more lunch for daughter. Threaten her with bodily harm if she loses this. Reward yourself with Chick-fil-A breakfast (mmmm). Realize son is fine. Get him dressed. Get both children on bus. Get ready for work. Go to work. Get summoned to the director's office. Mentally begin updating your resume and wondering whose dick you're going to have to suck in order to get a good recommendation. Get told that the project you just switched to is being switched again. New project gets started next week. Finish shit up and move to new project. Heave sigh of relief, return to lab, and continue rearranging matter to suit your purposes.

Wednesday: Wake up early. Get dressed. Don't eat breakfast. Don't drink coffee. Do get balls fumbled by some strange woman. Feel relief because that shit's been sort of building up for a while you don't have any hernias, you've lost weight, and your blood pressure is fucking awesome. Reward yourself with Taco Bell lunch. Ignore your clean bill of health being shot clean to hell. Hope that the greasy shitstain on the back of your pants comes out with a little Shout, some Oxyclean, and a ritual sacrifice to Billy Mays. Note: may involve cocaine.

Aaaaaaand...that's where I am right now. What other joys does the week hold for me? Fuck if I know. I'm somewhere between My Hurricane's Name is Earl and having...prior commitments *shifty-eyed*...on the opening weekend of college football.