Monday, April 24, 2006

Sunday Confessions

1. I procrastinate and find it very hard to stick to a deadline. If you don't believe me, check the date of this entry.

2. I'm one of those idiots who believes she has every single disease she reads about. And now that I have children, I am convinced that I have non-verbal learning disorder, anxiety, depression, ADD and ADHD, learning disabilities, speech processing issues, mumps, strep throat, head lice--oh, and I need braces.

3. I hate it when people call me just to say "hi." For years my husband called me at least once a day, sometimes two or three times, just to say "hi." This drove me nuts. Partly because I hate, hate, HATE being interrupted, even if I'm just sitting there reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. But also because I sense sometimes that people who call me just to say "hi," are bored. And they're looking for some entertainment. And since I have a not-undeserved reputation for being fairly entertaining, they call me. Well, I'm not flattered, and I'm busy. GO AWAY.

4. I am the worst speller I know.

5. OK, I know it's just a big computer, but I love ordering a bushel or two of some weird anomalous junk--say, science fiction, or the complete recordings of Nathan Gunn--from Amazon. Because then Amazon thinks I like it. And keeps recommending it. For some reason, I find this funny. I like to fuck with Amazon's head.

6. A lot of SAHMs give me the creeps.

7. I hate horror movies. Or movies with violence. Or movies with sex. PG-13 is about as far as I'm willing to go. (Luckily for me, I find fart jokes amusing.)

8. I'm a pervert. Yesterday was absolutely gorgeous: blue sky, every spring flower you can think of in bloom--perfection. There is nothing so rare as a spring day in Chicago. And how did I spent it? Cleaning out my garage. It was dark, cluttered, and filthy, and I was in manicure-destroying, why-did-I-wear-these-clothes-for-such-a-dirty-job bliss. Because I love really disgusting cleaning jobs. And I practically climax when I get to throw stuff out.

9. If you suspect you're boring me, you probably are.

10. The other night I had a dream about George W. Bush. Thank God it wasn't erotic.


  1. Oh my God, I'm about to put a hit out on my husband just so he'll stop calling me all the damn time. If I'm not home and he is, he calls me on my cell phone like every 15 minutes and/or whenever a thought -- any thought -- crosses his mind. If I'm home and he's out, he uses HIS cell phone to call me with the same frequency. And I have told him, many times, how much I HATE THAT. In fact, I have been known to let his calls go to voicemail if he calls me more than twice per outing.

    (And you know, it might be flattering in a weird way if he was doing it to check up on me and make sure I'm not boning my kids' gym teacher or something, but no, he's just annoyingly chatty.)

    If we ever get divorced, that will totally be why.

  2. "A lot of SAHMs creep me out." Love it. And me too.

  3. Hi! Whatcha doing?
    Grocery shopping, like I told you twenty minutes ago.
    How are the kids?
    Living. Here, want to talk to them?

  4. The thing that drives me BatShit about so many of SAHM's that I know is that they Never. Shut. Up. They come out of their houses with gums flapping, talknonfuckingstop the entire time you're with them and then are still talking as a door closes, usually in their face. Who wants to hear that drivel? NOT ME. Give me a pregnant pause any old time of day. Or absolute silence. Love it.
    Dh never calls. I never call him. We don't email much either. And he works 60-70 hours a week.
    I don't have voicemail on our home phone. And I frequently don't answer it. I answer my cell phone if I want to talk to whomever is on the other end.
    I wasn't always this particular about my time. Then one day I decided "I am not talking to that idiot today." And I realized I knew alot of idiots. In fact; most everyone is an idiot! At least some of the time. And if you answer the phone, they've got you - and if there's a problem, well then it's Your Problem because you know about it. So, don't answer the phone. No problem!

    If one didn't achieve darn-near Rocket Science Smarts with middle age, getting older would totally suck.


Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.