I have all freakin’ day to think these thoughts. Instead, the little buggers lurk until I close my eyes and try to sleep.
1. Are the spiders in this house on steroids? I walked through a piece of cobweb in the bathroom doorway that was 4 feet long. Four. Feet. And we’re not talking about some hidden corner in the basement, where we rarely tread. There’s only one bathroom in this house. The absolute longest window of time that spider would have had would have been an hour. That’s a pretty big project for a normal spider. Are the spiders meeting, plotting against me, passing out little tiny spider-sized growth hormone pills?
2. There’s a ferret on the loose in my neighborhood. I saw a mother & daughter on my street, obviously looking for a lost pet. “What color is your cat?” I asked, ready to be graciously helpful.
The mom stops scanning the alley to look at me. “Brown & white. But it’s not a cat. It’s a ferret.”
“Yeah. A ferret. NOT a rat.” It is very important to the daughter that I appreciate this distinction. (It’s almost like she knows who she’s dealing with.) But I’m sorry, honey. It’s a long, skinny rodent. I have no doubt the little fucker is burrowing into my home’s foundation and depositing it’s evil little ferret babies therein. I don’t care if it’s name is Peppy, and it’s much beloved: vermin is vermin.
3. The kids and I witnessed an almost fist-fight at Safeway. A pair of biceps with a head on top was roughing up two spiky haired young men. I missed the inciting incident. I can only guess that it had to do with the orange colored girl with bad highlights who was accompanying the biceps. But seriously? People are gonna start throwing down at the grocery store? Is there anywhere I can feel safe with my kids? What’s next? Monkey knife fights at the library?
4. I got into a fight with an arborist. He parked his tree chipper directly behind my car. I said the machine may need to be moved. He threw what he was holding on the ground, stomped off and swore under his breath. Oh no he di-in’t!
“EXCUSE ME? Are you seriously getting mad at me because you parked like an ass?”
He refuses to look at me, hides in his truck, and essentially tells me to “be quiet and get out of the alley.” I scream for a while, tell him he is a sad, sad little man, and drive away. I hear him yelling at his crew for the rest of the day. (His workers must have some big ‘ol criminal records to need a job that bad. That dude was mean.)
And at the end of the day, all I can think is “Ginny, you’ve pissed off a short man, who has a Napoleon complex. And a tree chipper. And your address.”
(“I guess that’s your friend over there in the wood chipper, eh?” Oh, Coen Brothers. Remember when you used to care?)
(What pisses me off more? The fact that I only came up with the parting shot I wanted 12 hours later: “You, sir, are an embarrassment to the entire Lollipop Guild.”)
Soooo, that’s what I thought about instead of sleeping. I trust I won’t have to explain the bags under my eyes ever again.