The baby is not sleeping.

The phone is ringing. A telemarketer. Thirty days until my name is taken off the list. Or so they said when I entered in the information.

I had a really good (well, relatively speaking, of course) post in my head all day today but didn’t have time to sit and tap it out. And now I have time to sit and tap it out, so of course, I can’t get the words or thoughts to flow. Must have been one of those “seize the moment” posts.

Maybe it will come back to me, eh?

In the meantime, you’ll all just have to suffer through a laundry list. It’s the best I’ve got, considering that my evening consisted of a screaming baby who was finished with his fake chicken and not in the mood for more cheese but was happy to eat all the chalk he could get his hands on, a phone call from my mother regarding Christmas and another passive aggressive rant, a bath for two kids that ended early and with Kate washing her own hair because the diva Michael freaked out when he realized he was NOT going to get to play with the plug and have I mentioned that the baby isn’t sleeping?

I think the water heater is fucked up. My shower this morning was scorching hot and I couldn’t get it cooled down. And tonight, the bath for Kate and Michael was lukewarm because I couldn’t get hot water. It is still weird not having Rock around in these moments. The water heater is kind of a man thing.

So is the washing machine. And it’s more fucked up than ever. I have to call a repair person.

I also have to call the doctor to make an appointment for Michael.

Told you this would be a laundry list.

I started my Christmas shopping today. The cashier at Zellers (which was having a really good sale on toys) said to me, “Starting your Christmas shopping early?” I felt like saying, “Clearly you don’t have children or you wouldn’t ask that. I am actually a little behind” but didn’t. I made a pretty good dent in the shopping today and hopefully can almost finish up on Thursday. I don’t like leaving toy shopping to the last minute because I get “squirelly” in busy toy stores and toy aisles of stores. I start to freak out. I want to ram my cart up slow people’s asses. It’s not pretty.

Don is coming this weekend. Then he’ll go home and come back in three days for American Thanksgiving (yes, it bit his mother and sister’s ass). I am officially a spoiled brat.

I have to talk to Rock tonight. I’m not looking forward to it. He’s working until late and I have to wait for him to call. I still can’t bring myself to call the landline at his Dad’s house when I need to get a hold of him. I always call the cell phone. I’m a chicken shit.

My hands are burning. They’re dry and I just put cream on them. I have sensitive skin. Really sensitive. It sucks a lot of the time.

The little girl who lives a few houses down came knocking on my door again this afternoon. We went through this last year. No matter how many times I said no to her, she was never discouraged. Finally, her step dad came over and we hashed it out. I explained that I don’t do that. I don’t let the girls have friends over after school. It’s just too busy a time of day in this house, which was sort of a lie. I’m not actually that much of a bitch and I don’t object to the idea of the girls having a local friend to play with.

I think I went over this a couple of times when it was going on in previous blog posts, so feel free to skip past this. Shit, skip past the whole post if you want to.

I don’t like this little girl. And I don’t like her mother. There is no nice way to put this, so forgive me for being politically incorrect.

They are white trash. Like, different father for each child, step dad has three more of his own (all with different mothers) which makes a total of seven (thankfully, only four live at this particular house full time), five or six unusable cars in the driveway, dirt crusted jeans, cigarette permanently hanging out of each parent’s mouth, white trash.

I know I will become a free baby sitter the minute I let that little girl in my house. And I’m outnumbered by children as it is. And the little girl is rude. And she has the worst high pitched scream I’ve ever heard.

The thing that makes it difficult is that one of the times I was away in Massachusetts, visiting Don, Rock let the little girl come over. So now I’m going against that foot she got in the door.

But I have to stay firm. I have too many children as it is.

I wish we had more of that fake chicken left over, but it went over too well at dinner. I’m hungry.

It’s super cold here. Snow is staying, it seems. It’s supposed to drop to minus fifteen tonight (go and convert that yourselves). I should be putting a fire on but I just don’t have it in me. There are only two pieces of wood in the basement, for starters. Secondly, I’m exhausted. And thirdly, I’m lazy.

This is the most boring post ever, I think.

What did you expect?