So there Universe, take that!

Yesterday morning = the morning from hell. Seriously. Monday morning around my house means very little. I mean hubby works from home and his job is pretty much 24/7 so there's no Monday. In fact, weekends are his busiest time so Monday kind of equals Wednesday for him or something vaguely resembling that analogy. Lu works retail so again no real Monday thing. Sean is home schooled and we don't really do set routines so we might work on whatever day starts our fancy. In fact, my foster son is the only one who has anything resembling a normal schedule (man, that has got suck monkey balls). So I don't dread Mondays at all. That does not stop Monday from messing with my head. It's like that thing that some religious people say "you may not believe in God, but he still believes in you" only replace "God" with "Monday" and "believes" with "hates".

First off, the cat wakes us up two minutes before my husbands alarm, by jumping on the nightstand and knocking all my crap (cell phone, books, glasses, lamp, clock) off of it. Then it takes forever to get hubby moving (it's the Monday curse). Which means that I am now awake which translates into "Shit. Now I have to pee." Then I look out the window and realize it snowed. And it's really cold in the house. So by the time I crawl back into bed, I'm shivering. Takes a minute to warm up and drift back off. Twenty minutes later, one of the cats is back and she's nuzzling my face. She gets a push and I pull the covers over my head. An hour later I can hear Hubby warming something up in the microwave. (Did I mention he's the 2nd noisiest person on the planet?) I glance at the clock and realize it's 7:30 and I listen. Nope. Noisiest person on the planet, aka foster son, aka Bobby is not up. I shiver my way into the kitchen to confront my husband.

Me: How come you didn't wake Bobby up? He has school! And it's going to take him extra drive time because it snowed?! I reminded you before you got out of bed!

Hubby: Relax, it's only 7. I have time.

Me: *walking backwards five steps to check the time on the thermostat* um. No. It's 7:30.

Hubby: Really? Wow I must have lost track of time. I'll go do it now.

I return to my warm cocoon, pondering how you lose track of time when you're watching one of those morning programs that has the time in the bottom left hand corner of your TV??! Then Bobby races upstairs, brushes his teeth, combs his hair, and slams out of the house in a whirlwind of very noisy activity. Would it kill that kid to shut the bathroom door in the morning?? Or not slam the front door?? I shake my head in frustration and drift back off...for twenty minutes. Then I awake to the sound of a cat digging their claws into the carpet in my bathroom. I lift my head. It's Axel. My insane cat. I go in and make her stop and realize that some kitty has decided to pee on the rug by the toilet. Gah!!! Earlier in the year, one of our kitties passed away from a kidney disease. But before she took her leave she managed to pee in various spots all over my carpeted house. I spent days cleaning carpets to get the smell out. I spent weeks shutting doors to keep the other kitties from those spots. We hadn't had a problem in months. Now, I know it wasn't Axel who committed the misdeed even though she was the one trying to cover it up. This cat is so anal about using the litter box that she wouldn't even use the one I set up for her in our family room when she was confined there with her kittens. She would paw the door to get out and go use the box downstairs. So I have no idea who the culprit is, but I'm pissed. And awake.

So I start to go to the kitchen for coffee, when I pass by my family room and realize some kitty has pooped on the throw rug in there. The hell??! I yell "who pooped in the family room??!" as though the responsible kitty would come forward. Sean (who is sitting in the family room on the computer and has quite obviously missed the pile of poop) turns around, spies it, and says "I was wondering why it smelled like ass in here! Oh, and I got an email that the IRS rejected my tax submission". Bloody Hell!! I get the stuff. I clean up the kitty potty messes. I glare balefully at every kitty I pass. I get coffee and head to the computer. The email says the IRS rejected the submission because the W-2 was not filled out correctly. The hell it wasn't! I log on to the freefile site and check. Yep. Filled in correctly. Stupid freakin bureaucrats. I think they just like to reject things for fun. So I redo and resend. Then I log into blogville and come up for air four hours later. Thankfully, Sean has brought me a bowl of cereal sometime in there.

Around this same time, Lulu finally drags herself out of bed. She, like her father, could sleep through the house burning down around them.

Me: Good morning princess sunshine! I'm about to make lunch. You want chicken salad or Tuna?

Lu: Tuna. It snowed.

Me: It's still snowing. The weatherman said it's just going to be flurries. No accumulation.

Lu: *looks out window again. Looks at me perplexed.*

Me: yeah, I know. Flurries on steroids. And there's an inch out there, Dad measured. It's just the latest in the Universe's attempt to send me a message.

Lu: *still looking perplexed, having slept through my horrible morning*

Me: It's been a screwed up horrible morning. I'm pretty sure the Universe was saying "Take some painkillers and go back to bed." But I don't like being told what to do, so I didn't. I fixed things. So there Universe! Take that. Flip off!!

Lu: you know you're really weird, right?

Me: *I grinned* Weird is a matter of perception.

Today was my husband's message from the universe in the form of snow drifted roads and the dishwasher backing up and overflowing all over the kitchen floor. He didn't take it lying down either. Up yours Universe. We do what we want.

♥Spot