sick kids

Whatever is bothering my kids can go fuck itself with a rusty chainsaw.  Both kids are sick, now--the imp has a painful lower belly, and told me "Momma, my butt threw up.  I don't feel good.  I don't want supper." 

There.  Is.  Nothing.  I.  Can.  Do.  Not a damned thing I can possibly do to make my kids feel better.  And that can fuck right the fuck off while it fucks itself with a two-pronged Sybian, studded with broken glass, and set on high. 

static, fucked-up power cords, and office space

So, yesterday was cold.  Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.  Cold enough that I decided to wear insulated leggings (my nylon ones were all I could find) under my flannel jeans.  Did you know that causes massive static, just sitting still?  Not fun.  Static can fuck off.

I keep a spare power cord in my bag of holding for office days.  My laptop gives me two and a half or three hours of battery time...and I used most of that while my kids were writing their papers.  So, I plug it in after I get settled in for office hours...and discover that the power cord has developed a break somewhere between the transformer and the end that plugs into the laptop.  So, yesterday's office hours were really unproductive, and that can fuck the fuck off.  Four hours that I could have been writing wasted. 

Speaking of office hours...last semester, I held my office hours in my classroom.  It was decently comfortable, and I had a padded seat and a desk.  This semester, there's a class directly after mine in my classroom.  Which means I had to hunt for someplace where I could settle and focus to do work.  I tried the adjunct office but it made me jittery and jumpy like you wouldn't believe.  In four hours, I was able to write less than a thousand words.  And I should have managed six thousand or more. Yesterday's attempt in an out-of-the-way nook of the library would have been much better, but...yeah.  I'm paying for the seating today with an awful backache.  A lack of office space where I feel comfortable can fuck the fucking fuck off.

Me.

I can so fuck the fuckety fuck off.  I forgot it was Friday.  Who or what would you like to tell off, and why?  Let us know in no uncertain terms in the comments.

this past week.

So, after the family car's demise as a reliable source of transportation, we started looking for another one.  We found a Subaru, and test drove it.  And it promptly died the same death as the Lexus, on the test drive.  The dealer that had it took more than 24 hours to tow it. 

So, with a Subaru sitting dead in our driveway, I thought that was bad enough.  Nope. 

I put in a load of dishes and started the dishwasher...which promptly started spitting soap foam on the floor in front of itself. 

And last, but not least, my imp clogged the toilet...and it started running...and it was ten minutes before I noticed it was running...and I wound up with a flooded bathroom.

And there were two turds bobbing against the closed toilet seat.

If that weren't bad enough, the bathroom?  except for a small area next to the bathtub and around the toilet...is carpeted.  The nasty water was standing on the linoleum, and had soaked the carpet to the point where it was standing on the carpet, too.

It's dry, now, but damn it stinks.  I don't think it's salvageable, so my weekend project is going to be ripping it out. 

This week can fuck the fuckety fuck off.  Next week starts classes back up.  Here's hoping next week is better. 

another list

Our car needing the head gasket replaced can fuck the fucking fuck off.  Even if we can sell it to someone whose dad is a mechanic, that was the family car--the Civic is nowhere near as easy to get the kids into and out of.

Whatever made my imp sick enough to throw up before his nap yesterday can definitely fuck the fuck off.  Miserable, crying boy is not happy-making for anybody, much less his mommy. 

The constantly-changing weather forecast.  We're in a weird area for weather, and the National Weather Service can't make up its tiny mind about what's likely to happen for us this weekend.

I think that's pretty much it.