Weekend did not go as planned...


Didn't have BIG plans for the weekend, but did think it would be kind of fun.  Start with Saturday morning trip to a small livestock swap where they were demoing rabbit cage building.  Then Sunday either a movie or New West Fest.  Not too bad, kind of laid back, right?

No, not so much.

Saturday morning we went to take care of the animals we've been watching for a week or so.  Kitty is not doing well.  Ok, so he hasn't been doing well for quite some time (months) but today, he is bad.  Instead of feeding everyone and then hopping in the car and driving to the swap, we hop in the car and take kitty to the vet.

I am so NOT ok with this.  I am freaking out.  A million thoughts running through my head.  Is this my fault? Are they going to think it's my fault? Why aren't they here when their kitty is dying? Why am I having make end of life decisions for someone else's cat? Or if I don't, then I'm deciding to spend megabucks of someone else's money on their dying cat.  WTF do I do!?!

So, took kitty to the vet.  Things are as bad as I thought.  Poor old-man kitty :(  The vet and I were finally able to get a hold of the owners and they were able to take over the kitty decisions.

An hour late to leave, we start driving to the swap.  Swap is 2 hours, we'll get to be there for one hour.  Hopefully, we'll arrive in time for the demo and to talk with other crazy people who love chickens and bunnies (and other assorted animals.)  All was going well until about 5 miles from our destination when traffic stopped.  Yes, we did occasionally move, but those last 5 miles took us about 30 minutes, meaning we'd only have 30 minutes at the swap/  Ok, great.  I'm not stressing out.  I'm not pissed.  Ok, yes, I'm BOTH of those things.

Then we get off at the exit where the swap is supposed to be and we can't find it.  Yes, we have GPS, I looked at a map, I know the address...it's not there.  Stop in at the visitor's center.  Two lovely old ladies look at me as if I have 3 heads when I ask where the street is.  They've never even heard of the street the swap is supposedly on.  They get out ye olde map booke from 1602 and look it up.  They bicker over how to look it up and what this column means, and oh is it "street" or "drive"? Time is tick, tick, ticking away.

Finally they find it and off we drive.  The street they told us to go to is closed.

Fuck it, we're going home.  With ice-cream on the way home.  Yes, that's what we're doing.  Saying "fuck it" and eating ice-cream.  Yeah, take that, shitty morning!

Sunday did not improve things.  There was a certain child who shall remain nameless (Stella) who decided to be a manic girl despite meds.  She's been like this ALL WEEK but when you get to the end of the weekend, well, at some point you've just had enough.  There was supposed to be a movie afternoon with kids seeing Epic and grownups seeing Star Trek, but instead it was no one seeing anything because the damn child won't do anything except what she wants and thinks is funny at that moment.  It could be saying, "poopy poop poop" over and over in iambic pentameter.  It could be beating her sister in rhythm with the songs on the radio.  It could be saying "why" to every. last. thing. on. earth. in such a way as to imply her total disgust with you and the world at large.  And, for a final straw, it could be giggling when her dad tries to explain to her how if she can't stop, we can't go to the movies.

Yep, no movies.

So, I'd like a do-over.  Not just for the weekend.  Nope, for the whole fucking year.  It's not been a good one by any means.  It started with putting our dog down and after a string of pet deaths and other disappointments, got to the final horror of my nephew.  Not to end there, the year had to keep beating me down.  This past weekend is like a small, evil snapshot of how my year has gone.

And there are still over 4 months left.

And my word for the year was supposed to be "joy."

It should have been "fuck."


Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.