Lowering the Bar: a Happy Schadenfreude Post

Jan 11 2013

I haven’t showered since Monday. Just thought you’d want to know so you can feel completely awesome about all you’ve accomplished this week. Any amount of personal grooming puts you ahead of me. It’s like my special present to you. No need to send a thank you note. You’re welcome, friend.

I have 26 chigger bites on my legs. They itch like a mother. Like the mother of a mother. I asked around to see if any of my friends have a vat of acid I can borrow to peel the flesh from my bones as that sounds preferable to the continuous itch, but they’re all being selfish vat-of-acid hoarders and not sharing. I might need new friends. In the meantime, I’m alternating between 4 types of anti-itch creams, scratching deep rivulets in my legs, and throwing back shots of Benadryl which makes me crabby. My family likes me best when I’m crabby, though, so that’s working out well.

My daughter’s birthday is tomorrow. She’s going to be 11. I plan to throw her a party sometime before she’s 12 because I believe planning ahead and being organized are some of a mama’s most important skills.

My anniversary is on Monday. Eighteen years, folks! The Big 1-8. I think this proves that Greg and I are very, very stubborn. Also, we’re exceptional at romance. For example, Greg just sent me an e-mail titled “Anniversary” that goes, “Want to try to do anything this weekend? Or later when you itch less?” See? Romance! It’s not dead. Just hidden under chigger bites. And occasional constant exhaustion. And leg hair.

My Christmas tree is still up. I’m considering having the kids cut paper snowflakes so we can decorate it for January. Also, I think I’m going to call it a Winter Tree instead of a Christmas Tree so I can justify my procrastination, but I’m afraid that’s a little short-sighted since it’ll still be up in March.

That is all, folks. Just a friendly note to let you know either a) you have more of your crap together, comparatively speaking, that you thought you did, or b) if you don’t have your crap together, you’re not alone.

Happy Schadenfreude to you!


P.S. I’m not wearing any pants.