Just in the last week I've had a few of those little frustrations that add to each other to produce a big frustration. Luckily they were spaced out and I avoided any sizeable dummy spit.
Beginning with a family occasion I attended in another city, my siblings decided for my own good that it would be best if I had a big night with the boys and wrote myself off ie. drunk as a skunk, head down toilet bowl, hangover, headache, nausea and so on. Strangely, despite their obvious caring intentions, I didn't go for it and probably ruffled a few feathers by not complying. I do like a drink by the way. On 3 occasions over two days it happened that I didn't hold back (as I am prone to do) and they were probably glad to see me go. I felt a bit liberated.
A day or two later, back home and back into the usual slave slot, I was getting some ice cream for my youngest; I even put a little in a bowl for myself. As I was pressing the lid back on the ice cream container my finger slipped off the edge and tipped the bowl right next to it. As it happens, this serve was pretty substantial for my younger son and it also sat on the edge of the sink. As the bowl headed to the floor in slow mo' I thought 'FECK I couldn't do that again if I was paid. I looked down at my feet; my head swimming with curses and questions; How did that happen? What a waste. More cleaning up. I'm really tired and want a shower. I want to sit down. Now I've got to clean the bowl and the bloody floor and so on...... I remember bending down to pick up the bowl which of course landed upside down. I put the bowl in the sink and went for the ice cream. It actually handled pretty well I thought as I grabbed it all in one paw. I turned it over and noticed little things like a bit of cheese, cat fur, lettuce, coloured sprinkles, dirt and hair and what ever else lives at your feet at the kitchen sink. The next time I actually looked at this clump of vanilla was with a perverse kind of pleasure as it flew through the air over the back yard. Problem solved I figured as it broke into two big chunks to melt away into the night. I was surprised at the distance it travelled.
The next night I was at this computer, I reached into a desk draw and moved a box of thumb tacks (drawing pins) to get at something else. Well, the lid wasn't on the box properly was it? And this is not a neat draw, full of all sorts of disordered useful things. It probably took me 20 minutes to get the last one back in the box; they seemed to have a nack for staying in or getting in to the most annoying spots. They also drop down just as you go to grab them. I took a short break to count to 10 million or so.
Beginning with a family occasion I attended in another city, my siblings decided for my own good that it would be best if I had a big night with the boys and wrote myself off ie. drunk as a skunk, head down toilet bowl, hangover, headache, nausea and so on. Strangely, despite their obvious caring intentions, I didn't go for it and probably ruffled a few feathers by not complying. I do like a drink by the way. On 3 occasions over two days it happened that I didn't hold back (as I am prone to do) and they were probably glad to see me go. I felt a bit liberated.
A day or two later, back home and back into the usual slave slot, I was getting some ice cream for my youngest; I even put a little in a bowl for myself. As I was pressing the lid back on the ice cream container my finger slipped off the edge and tipped the bowl right next to it. As it happens, this serve was pretty substantial for my younger son and it also sat on the edge of the sink. As the bowl headed to the floor in slow mo' I thought 'FECK I couldn't do that again if I was paid. I looked down at my feet; my head swimming with curses and questions; How did that happen? What a waste. More cleaning up. I'm really tired and want a shower. I want to sit down. Now I've got to clean the bowl and the bloody floor and so on...... I remember bending down to pick up the bowl which of course landed upside down. I put the bowl in the sink and went for the ice cream. It actually handled pretty well I thought as I grabbed it all in one paw. I turned it over and noticed little things like a bit of cheese, cat fur, lettuce, coloured sprinkles, dirt and hair and what ever else lives at your feet at the kitchen sink. The next time I actually looked at this clump of vanilla was with a perverse kind of pleasure as it flew through the air over the back yard. Problem solved I figured as it broke into two big chunks to melt away into the night. I was surprised at the distance it travelled.
The next night I was at this computer, I reached into a desk draw and moved a box of thumb tacks (drawing pins) to get at something else. Well, the lid wasn't on the box properly was it? And this is not a neat draw, full of all sorts of disordered useful things. It probably took me 20 minutes to get the last one back in the box; they seemed to have a nack for staying in or getting in to the most annoying spots. They also drop down just as you go to grab them. I took a short break to count to 10 million or so.
Finally (as far as these few days go anyway) the next morning proved to be one of those sandwich wrapping days that was not going to work for me.
I should have known really. I had woken pretty early and had a lousy sleep as I often do these days. I'd forgotten that these are not the times to wrap the kids sammo's in cling wrap (or plastic wrap, saran wrap etc).
Just a slight miscalculation, heavy breath, puff of wind through the window, too quick a hand movement and that stinken, rotten, mongrel clinging, static strewn plastic sticks to itself and only the patience of a friggin saint would attempt to undo it. With balls of plastic all around the bench and on the floor the sandwiches are finally wrapped and I moved on to the brekkies, fingers crossed.
I should have known really. I had woken pretty early and had a lousy sleep as I often do these days. I'd forgotten that these are not the times to wrap the kids sammo's in cling wrap (or plastic wrap, saran wrap etc).
Just a slight miscalculation, heavy breath, puff of wind through the window, too quick a hand movement and that stinken, rotten, mongrel clinging, static strewn plastic sticks to itself and only the patience of a friggin saint would attempt to undo it. With balls of plastic all around the bench and on the floor the sandwiches are finally wrapped and I moved on to the brekkies, fingers crossed.