joannebest











{January 30, 2015}   Warning – Rant Ahead

rant

Warning: the following rant will most likely include profanity, snark, anger, venting, and a general sense of crankiness caused by, well, stuff. Unless I hit overload and wimp out.
Today was one of those days even before I knew it. Because it started off stress-free and lovely, which should have been my first sign. I mean aside from the ever-growing pile of used tissues and the lack of a voice when I first woke up because, bronchitis. Again.
Oh, and the snow outside, especially the icy lump in the middle of the driveway daring me to drive over it so I could take Father Dear to get his stitches removed. (I dropped it into first gear and the icy lumps lost. I was not about to allow my car to get stuck in the snow.)
It was the first time I left the house since before the Blizzard Of The Century That Wasn’t.
I live a very exciting life you know, especially in the winter when I get one of those inner-battles where my immune system always gets it’s ass kicked and I’m a puddle of lethargy trying my best to hide it.
(I’ve noticed a distinct lack of rant-ness going on here because too much time has passed since I wrote the first sentence. Never a good sign when you’re trying to rant.)
First Main Street was closed because of a fire, making me late-ish due to a stupid detour down a barely plowed road followed by a lack of my cousin who said he’d shovel Dad’s driveway and even do his laundry (mighty nice of him since he coincidentally only shows up when he needs to do his laundry or store his tools) while I took him to the doctor.
Obviously, my cousin didn’t show so I’m running up and down the basement steps to get the laundry started before we leave because yes, I actually have things of my own to do and laundry wasn’t in the memo.
This led to me unable to find my car keys for a good ten minutes, when I finally gave in and asked Dear Saint Anthony to please come around.
As usual, he did and I did. Find my keys.
Next, the awkward social situations I’m forced to improvise in the name of damage control when my Father is in smartass-to-strangers mode, his brand of humor.
Then the inevitable suggestion that we go to Burger King, the restaurant of Dear Daddy’s choice, and the drive-thru compromise because time is seriously not on my side.
A stop at Krauszers for Dad’s newspaper turned into a driving clusterfuck as a teenager girl driving the brand new car someone else paid for wouldn’t stop blowing her horn as my 88 year old Father was struggling to get out of my car (he refuses to let me help him or go in the store for him, plus there was enough room for her to drive around me, also, emergency blinker thingys were flashing).
It took everything I had to keep myself from jumping out of the drivers seat and having a word with the young miss.
Not really, it was more the sight of the neighbor up the street who happens to be a cop. I knew my Irish would take over and it wouldn’t be pretty.
I’m not confrontational but do the slightest thing to hurt any of mine and I go ballistic.
I’ve been known to grab bikers by their leather jackets and slam them into walls for wrongly harassing a friend while girl-shouting in his face.
But instead of a cat fight, I lit my first cigarette in awhile, bronchitis be damned because otherwise someone or something was going to see my fist. Or I would yell shrilly.
Back to Dad’s house to finish the laundry and move his car for him so it would be easier for him to get through the snow and what do ya know, somebody who shall remain nameless did a fake-out shovel and I had to shovel a path through the kind of snow that has a thick layer of ice on top. Did I mention I have bronchitis?
Sigh.
I can’t even muster up enough energy to rant properly.
I’m all flannel pajamas and piles of blankets trying to write with Fang Face Willy, no longer a kitten in size but still in attitude, diving into Drusilla and biting her neck while she speaks in cat-tongues I’ve never heard before but her grumbled growls really do sound like words. She puts her paw on his head, holds him in place then frantically licks his face till he submits and dashes off to try and have his way with me.
Since I’ve been interrupted so many times since I began writing this nearly 35 hours ago, I’m going to chalk this up to a rant as bad as everything that led up to me wanting to rant in the first place.
Kinda like a boring diary entry but here’s the thing, I’ve been spending way too much time writing and not posting I have decided to throw my hands in the air, not even reread this damn thing and post it to break my too-long-since-I-posted streak.
Maybe tomorrow I shall awake bronchitis-less, full of energy, a clear mind, no vampire cat trying to write his own rant.
I know! I’ll do “research” and read!
That’s a thing you know, gotta read if you wanna write, right?
I’m gonna regret posting this babble, but if I don’t break this non-posting streak, my regret will increase tenfold.
I’ll just throw on another comforter, cozy up with a book or ten and lose myself in someone else’s words so I can find my own.
I have a Love Spanks Event to attend next week, I have to stop being sick! Also, write. Ok, over and out until the next time dear ones.
https://governingana.wordpress.com/2015/01/17/announcing-love-spanks-2015/
cropped-spanks-lovespanks-amazon-2015.jpg

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