Could be Worse. Could be Puppies.

I had a nice, semi-sentimental post brewing about how I’m feeling much better after getting over the kick-my-ass virus and how I’m agonizing over the Japan earthquake/tsunami/nuclear meltdown situation. But instead, I’m just going to bitch.

Despite several very bright spots in my day, I’ve decided I’m just irritated. I realize my house hasn’t been swept away by a giant wave. Nor am I being shot at by thugs sent out by the government because I was at a protest. Nor am I waiting to be evacuated to avoid radiation exposure (not yet — but we are on the west side of the country). I get that things are good. I sit on the couch and watch the news and can’t believe what I’m seeing. But just the same — I’m having a hard time.

So here is a list of my complaints in no particular order of importance. And if you think I’m being shallow, then go read one of those annoying blogs where people take pictures of puppies and kittens and only talk about how cute their kids are.

• I’m irritated because I spent two-and-a-half hours at the dentist’s office today and somehow agreed to continue trying what has been a completely fruitless treatment for the last two years. I can’t decide if this is because I’m persistent or a doormat. I keep getting the feeling that at some point, a guy is going to jump out and try to sell me a timeshare.

• I’m irritated because after spending said time at the dentist’s office, I feel even worse than I did before I went in and am now whacked out on quite a few pain meds.

• I’m irritated that I never seem to have time to write. I keep wondering where my time is getting sucked away to, and I constantly feel like I must be doing something wrong. I don’t have a job, my house isn’t that clean or well decorated, my kids aren’t well dressed, I’m not in good shape. So what exactly am I doing? And why does everyone else I know who blogs seem able to crank out five times as much stuff even though they home school their four special needs children, cook all their food from scratch because of each person’s individual food allergies, train for a triathlon before everyone wakes up in the morning, run their own business, plan to do a five-country biking tour through Europe for spring break, remodel their kitchen with recycled materials, and apparently deal with their chronic pain a hell of a lot better than I do.

• I’m irritated that this is the first time in I can’t remember when that I’ve gone this long without writing a post. And it completely unnerves me.

• I’m irritated because I suck at social networking. Suck at it. I never thought I was a particularly slow or stupid person, but now I’m starting to wonder.

• I’m irritated because my copyright company keeps sending me a registration email for the same blog post I wrote last October.

• I’m irritated because I put my photos on an external hard drive, and I can’t get to them. Because I suck at computers (see “slow or stupid” above).

• I’m irritated because I swear I just did five loads of laundry, and the hampers are overflowing again. It makes me feel like I’m in the Matrix and someone just put it there when I turned my back.

• I’m irritated because my daughter stole my computer from me this afternoon because I’m a “good mom” and let her write an email to invite our friends to her school function. This turned a five-minute project into a thirty-minute, unfinished project (see “doormat” above).

• I’m irritated because there’s so much stuff to put away in my house that I’m tempted to just collect it all in a big, black, plastic bag and stick it on the curb.

• I’m irritated that the kids take my iPhone, play with it, and turn the volume down when I tell them they’re driving me crazy. And then I miss calls because I don’t hear the ringer.

• I’m irritated that my husband spent 45 minutes fixing the toilet because the piece of junk part inside it was made in China and only lasted about a year. Whereas an American part probably would’ve lasted about ten. But because we live in a country where money-grubbing, amoral jackasses have outsourced all of our jobs, we get to buy plastic crap that drives my husband to want to drink.

• I’m irritated because all over the country, governments are taking away power from the people and using slimy, underhanded tactics to do it.

• I’m irritated because I have to get all the crap ready to do our taxes. And fill out some stupid questions on a school application. And go to the frickin’ bank.

• I’m irritated because I have friends who actually get annoyed when you miss their birthdays. And I of course missed their birthdays. Because I suck at birthdays.

• I’m irritated that there are at least three people with whom I’ve wanted to have extended phone conversations in the last week, but I haven’t been able to find the time (see “doing something wrong” above).

• And. . . I’m irritated that I never get to bed at a decent hour. Because the only time I seem to be able to write is at night.

I’m sure if I got more sleep, I’d be less irritated. I might even start dropping in a comment or two about how cute the kids are. Of course, we all know that would eventually lead to the damn puppies and kittens.

And that would be really irritating.