Tuesday, June 25, 2013

The princess and the pea.

     It's only 12:30 pm. I have that sickly anxious feeling. Every nerve I have is shot. I feel guilty for not being in a good mood. I want to get out of this fucking house and do something ALONE. Everything I have tried to do so far today has failed or been a struggle. Bug is plotting my demise, I'm fairly certain. I guess it's just one of those days.

     The plan was to do some sewing, make a few business calls, maybe hit a thrift store before our trip to the park, and then make dinner and clean frantically before Husband got home. Typical day. Except that the two shirts I planned to upcycle are too small for me now, and too big for Bug as dresses so I can't use them until next summer when she grows. She wouldn't take her morning nap, probably because another fucking thunderstorm suddenly showed up and kept startling her, which also caused me to cancel our park outing, she didn't want what I made her for lunch, she screamed through the one phone call I tried to make so I just hung up, she's hanging off me and blocking me from walking even a few feet so cleaning is impossible, she's only letting me get through 2 pages of each book....AAAHHHH!!!!! She's in her crib right now, and I'm hoping she'll finally sleep because I seriously feel like a crazy person.

     I feel so bad for being frustrated that I have a lump in my throat. I know she's cranky because she couldn't sleep, and that isn't her fault. She's so cute and she just loves me and wants to be with me, and here I am ready to jump off something tall. I finally just let her yell at me and ignored her while I altered a T-shirt Husband gave me (He refuses to wear blue, so I get the blue shirts out of the package).

This is the back view.
     I just felt like I had to do SOMETHING from start to finish today or I'd be a super bitch all night long, too. I feel like I should be cleaning this pigsty of a house right now, but I'm afraid to make any noise because....ohmygodyes. She's asleep! Shit, what do I do?? I don't wanna do anything!

     What is wrong with me?! I'm not on my period. Life is good. Everyone is healthy. I'm still homesick, I know, and having Gage away is making it worse. But today I guess...no that's it. I'm homesick. The 4th of July is coming. I keep talking to my family and friend about it trying to figure out what we're gonna do, and nothing has come up. It's our favorite holiday and mine and Husband's 3 year dating anniversary, and we won't be at Jamboree days (our hometown's weekend festival for the 4th) with our family and friends. Our whole town is in epic party mode for a whole weekend, and we're going to miss it. Missing Christmas was a breeze. But missing Jam days is heartbreaking. And then I think about how our kids were all "supposed" to grow up together, how we'd always have a huge backyard party on the 4th that everyone we knew could drop by at any given hour, and I wonder what in the fuck we're doing here in Florida. Fuck. This sucks. And now I feel guilty again.

     I have NOTHING to complain about. We are so well taken care of, we are making friends, Husband is getting his business started, and the only way to go right now is UP. We are succeeding. Ugh. I hate this feeling, trying to be grateful for all we have, but instead being depressed and feeling selfish. I've got to snap out of it. I think I've always been a little brat like this, though. My mom used to tell me the story of the Princess and the Pea a lot, and then ask me what I thought the moral of the story was. I never got it. But now, I totally feel like that bitch princess, and I almost want to call my mom and apologize.
     I found a bunch of printable stencils that are asking me to bleach-paint them into some T-shirts. First this one:
     Cutting it out might be a bitch, but hopefully Husband will do it for me. He loves that shit. :) And now that I have pissed away an hour and a half on this computer machine, I will go find something useful to do and try not to be a bitch for the rest of the day. Moving on, folks.....

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