Back to bed.

I really need to get some work done, but I just can’t.

I feel like I’ve got plague or something.  I don’t know what it is.  It made me feel shitty enough today that I wasted one of my pregnancy tests (I’m a pee-on-a-stick-aholic, in case I haven’t revealed that) to see what’s up.  Of course it was negative, as it should have been considering I just had Mother Nature’s Gift.

Last night/this morning I was jolted awake by stomach grumbling.  No - grumbling isn’t even the right word for it.  It was more like stomach BURNING.  Hunger burning.  It was the second morning in the row.  I rolled myself off the bed after about half an hour and ate a cheese stick to sort of calm it down.  The burning returned by 8 o’clock or so.

In addition to the weird empty stomach feeling, I’ve got queasiness and a lingering headache.  Oh, and my right ear is stuffed up.

I don’t have a fever (at all - I’m hovering around 98 degrees, actually), so I doubt I caught something.

Stomach ulcer?  Mild gastroenteritis?  Thoughts?  I’d really love to chug a bottle of Pepto right about now.  As I’ve stated before, if I don’t write, I don’t get paid.  This blog post is the only substantive thing I’ve written in 2 days.  Can I just be healthy, please?

Jeez.

Posted by Tiffany on 09/30 at 04:36 PM
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I submit for the record Exhibits A and B

Ok, I admit it - although I don’t consider myself particularly conceited, I do freak out about gray hair.  Women in my family just don’t gray, so for me to have a few is like putting me firmly in the “are you sure I wasn’t adopted?” category.  So, I do what any other insane person would do.  I pluck out miscreant hairs, tape them to my notebooks, and examine them up close.

The one on the left is one I found near the crown of my head and had an absolute freak-out over.  Scott talked me down from that one and informed me that it isn’t gray, but yellow.  We had to get out his magnifying glass so I could examine it up close to be certain.

The other one Scott discovered (and probably caused).  It’s gray.  Gray-gray-gray and as long as the rest of my hair, so that means I’ve had it for at least a year.

*sigh*

Let’s just hope I gray gracefully.

Posted by Tiffany on 09/29 at 05:51 PM
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Party Hardy, yo.

R was invited to a birthday party for today and because he loves eating frosting when I queried him about it he said “I love birthday parties!”  Of course, after that assessment we made certain to attend.

Hermit that I am in general, I don’t mind the occasional kiddie party (unless it involves Chuck E. Cheese).  There’s always going to be cake and nobody cares if you have stains on your pants.  In fact, I usually have more fun at kid’s birthday parties than I do at grown-up ones (even the ones with alcohol).

That being said, Scott’s been goading me into planning something for Rosco’s birthday this year and I’m all “Eh.”  He’s thinking of reserving a room at the kid’s museum.  Again, I’m all “eh.”

According to Scott, I must not love my son because I’m not ready to have a birthday party for him.  Fact is, I’m just too lazy to want to deal with that this year.  Too much planning.  Too much organization.  Too much stress.

He’s all, “What stress?  I’m paying for it.”  *sigh*  Men.

Posted by Tiffany on 09/26 at 03:20 PM
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Me zombie. Me eat brains?

Dude.  I feel like gaaaaarbage.

Last night I went to bed at around 2.  I’ve been supplementing with vitamin B6 which has a side effect of causing insomnia.  Rather than toss in turn in bed for hours before nodding off, I just stayed up later.  So, I went to bed and was woken up three hours later (men, avert your eyes) by cramps.

You know - the kind of cramps that have you digging around in your medicine drawer looking for very strong painkillers?  Well, these particular cramps had me sleeping on the cold bathroom floor for about two hours until my 800 mg ibuprofen kicked in.  I thought I was going to die.

I’m not exaggerating this time, y’all.  It was like a flashback to when I was hemorrhaging back in January.  I was lightheaded and having hot flashes (alternating with cold flashes).  I felt so shitty that I was actually thinking, “Well, if this is it, then so be it.”

Funny thing is I actually have an appointment to see my OB this afternoon and I felt so crummy that I thought about canceling it.

Well, I don’t think I’m bleeding to death from a weird ectopic or anything like that.  I think my endometriosis might be flaring up on me a bit.  I feel a little better now.  Just tired, seeing as how I got like 47 seconds of sleep last night.

Slightly off-tangent rant: This is why it pisses me off when some women say that if you need medication to deal with childbirth then you’re not trying hard enough and you’re weak.  Seriously, I’ve read people online posting that kind of shit.  They say you can will yourself through the pain.  Well, guess what?  Not everyone’s pain is the same!  It’s not “in our heads!”  I bet these are the same women who have periods that are like flutters.  Certainly, none of them have ever thought that menstruation felt like a terminal illness.  SO STOP TRYING TO MAKE IT SOUND LIKE EVERYONE’S PAIN IS THE SAME, martyrs!  Shut that shit up.  Epidural?  Hell yeah.  I wish they had them for home delivery.

Posted by Tiffany on 09/25 at 09:51 AM
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Dudes!

Ok, American Red Cross keeps calling me to hit me up for a blood donation.  I keep telling them that I had a transfusion in January and I, per their guidelines, can’t donate until a year has elapsed.  They always say, “Okay!  Thanks for letting me know!” and let me go on my way…

But then they call again a few weeks later!

Dudes!  Put it in your database or whatever!  I know my type O+ is like sweet nectar to you and stuff, but you can’t force blood from a turnip!

(Besides, I’m under the weight limit right now so the most they’d probably squeeze out of me is some dust and cat hair.)

(Oh, BTW—Go donate blood if you can.  Thanx.)

Posted by Tiffany on 09/24 at 04:23 PM
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Blech.

Yuk!

You know those “healthy” soups?  You know the ones I mean - the ones with the white labels that are supposed to be better for you than regular canned soups but are still supposed to taste good?

LIES!

I’m trying to get through a bowl of Italian wedding soup right now, and it is simply NASTY.  It’s like turnip broth, green toilet paper, and dog food all combined in one can.  Even that handful of kosher salt I added didn’t improve the “blech!” factor.

Look, normally I just buy “good” soup or make it myself, but I had a coupon and Harris Teeter was running a VIC special.  I figured I’d give it a try again.  I’m not a fan of paying $3 for a can of soup, you know?

There’s got to be a better option.  I need to go scrape my tongue now.  Excuse me.

Posted by Tiffany on 09/23 at 02:28 PM
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You know…

I was just sitting here trying to read Dr. Laura’s book In Praise of Stay-at-Home Moms and I couldn’t get past page 18.  She annoyed me.

I was reading it so I could dissect it and do a freelance article, but nah.  Not worth sending my blood pressure into a tail-spin.

It’s just amazingly…I don’t know.  It’s sort of like how someone can call people shitheads but be wearing a huge, loving smile on their face when they do it—you know, because they’re telling them for their own good.  Yeah.  It’s like that.

The preface pissed me off sufficiently.  I don’t need to read through to the end.

(DISCLAIMER for people new to the blog: I’m a SAHM who makes a few pennies here and there writing web content.)

Posted by Tiffany on 09/22 at 06:22 PM
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Hiiidee ho!

Hello, readers.  More of the same with the mouse, so no update there.  We haven’t decided to put the cats out yet, so that’s good (I guess).  I have a day chuck-full of freelancey goodness, so here’s a quick morsel of cute for you:

Rosco’s new fall pajamas.  They’re a 3T, like his summer pajamas.

Well, he needs a 4T.  Pajama sizing is crazy!  His 3T blue jeans?  Well, they hang off his butt like he’s a homie, of course.

Posted by Tiffany on 09/18 at 09:41 AM
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TIIMJD Part V: *scream*

Fucking cat.

(Yeah, this saga is just ongoing.)

So, last night my brilliant plan was to leave ONE of the two cats out to roam in case mousie made another appearance in our bedroom.  If it’s only one cat there’s no possibility of them staging brawls on top of our bed while we sleep.  So, I chose Puffy Savage due to her cuddly nature and the fact that she’s a better mouser (usually).

La la la.  So, we woke up this morning.  The cat hadn’t caught a mouse and neither had the mouse trap in the kitchen.

I go about my business, clipping coupons for my grocery trip this morning, when I take a whiff of myself.  “Dang, I’m ripe,” I thought.  Considering I don’t leave the house on most days other than to go to the mailbox, my showering schedule is sometimes lax.  That DOESN’T typically mean I stink, though.  Well, guess what - I didn’t stink TODAY either!  My pajama pants did because THE CAT PISSED ON US WHILE WE SLEPT.

I discovered this when I was setting Rosco on the bed to watch Little Einsteins while I showered.  Two splotches of cat piss - right on top of us while we slept.  Right through to the mattress.

Fucking cat.

Fucking mouse.

Posted by Tiffany on 09/15 at 11:00 AM
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TIIMJD Part IV: The Saga Continues

So, on Friday Scott brought home a mousetrap (one with the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, no less), and we set it up on the kitchen counter where mousie had been spending a lot of time.

Of course, as a result mousie has not returned to the kitchen.  As of this morning the trap remains unsprung.

Last night, a little after midnight or so, I was in bed reading - as is my custom - and I heard that tell-tell scratching noise under the bed.  So, I pointed the flashlight on my iPhone (useful little program) at the floor and there the little fucker was.  It ran behind the dresser.

I shook Scott awake and told him the mouse was among us and he looked at me with annoyance (I’d interrupted his sleep after all).  I told him that we should corner it and try to throw a towel over it.

His response was “zzzzz.”

So.  Now I know that the mouse is the size of a cotton ball, and that it’s smarter than us.

Posted by Tiffany on 09/14 at 09:49 AM
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TIIMJD Part III: Dear Mousie

Dear Mousie:

As you know, I’ve exhibited considerable patience with you.  I have sympathy for all of God’s creatures, even the ones I regularly squash because they’re seeking my blood.  We’ve been trying to lure you out of our abode in the most humane way possible.

I’m a rational woman.  I’m able to channel my anger into productive things.  That being said, let me inform you of this: my rage is becoming uncorked. You’ve interfered with my morning caffeine consumption once again.

I find myself researching the lifespan of mice and thinking very seriously about poisoning you.  My husband is warming on buying a trap that’ll snap your neck.  Normally, I just grit my teeth and move on but this morning when I found that you’d defecated in my kitchen drawers you made me want to unleash a war cry and pull a Xena: Warrior Princess on you.  Aiyiyiyiyiyiyi!

Since you’ve created at least an hour of work for me this morning (and remember - if I’m not writing, I’m not earning $$$), consider your days marked.

Bitch-ass plauge-spreading mouse.  I dare you to come out during daylight today.

Sincerely,

Tiffany

Posted by Tiffany on 09/11 at 08:56 AM
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TIIMJD Part II

(That’s “This isn’t in my job description if you haven’t been paying attention.)

Yesterday, Scott brought home some mouse glue traps on my suggestion.  I wanted to use something that would trap the mouse BUT that wouldn’t kill it.  We wanted to be able to escort the beast to some remote outdoor location…or transplant it on site at a former place of employment, something like that.

He brought home a brand called Tomcat that claimed to have an anesthetic called Eugenol that would calm the little critter down.  Well, I read the fine print before opening the box.  Basically, once the mouse gets trapped on the glue it’ll probably suffocate itself by pressing its mouth and nose into it or worse.  With a Google search we learned that the Eugenol isn’t necessarily effective in mice unless it’s injected intravenously.  SO.  We’re not using that.

We opened a new browser window and did a search for “humane mouse traps.”  The alternative was the old-fashioned kind that snaps the mouse’s neck, but as I told Scott - I’m not going to be the one who has to dispose of that.  We found one little reusable bait-and-release system that looked kind of cool, but then we found a website with an ingenious, simple idea.

AND IT WORKED!  Sort of.

Scott set it up with peanut butter and a few Cheerios.  Overnight the mouse had obviously fallen into the trash can (evidenced by the poop in the bottom), but clawed its way out.  *sigh*

Now we need to find something that’s too slick for it to grab on to so that we can try again.  I’m open to suggestions, folks!

Already, this method has worked 100% better than the previous one:

Posted by Tiffany on 09/10 at 09:23 AM
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That isn’t in my job description.

There’s another mouse in our house.  By my count this is the third one this year.

Mousie number one got used as a cat toy and was ferretted out of hiding by Puffy Savage.  We managed to corner it in a closet and Scott tossed it outside.

Mousie number two was found, feet-up, in the laundry room one day when I needed to wash a load of whites.  I guess the cats were having their revenge for the last time.

The current mousie is sort of elusive.  I know it exists because a) it’s been waking me up at night by rustling stuff under our bed, and b) it’s leaving its SHIT all over my house.

Look.  Woodland creatures are cute and all, but I can’t take it.  I have a limit on how many living creatures over a certain size I can abide having in my house, especially after our ant infestation earlier this year.  Roaches, yeah, we’re going to get those.  Our house backs a greenway and there’s a wooded lot beside the garage, so we’re going to have those no matter how clean the place is.  But mice?  Hell no.

They’re incontinent, so they pee as they frolic, and they have no qualms about pooping in the cat food dishes.

We tried leaving the cats out one night to take care of business, but they didn’t.  They just kept leaping on us in the bed and made our night miserable.  Since mice are nocturnal things, the cats haven’t been able to take care of it during the day because the mouse won’t come out.

I’m SICK of waking up every day to do mouse-shit checks of my counter tops and floors.  I have other things to do.  When I wake up, I just want to have my tea and start pounding the keys for the day (my income is directly proportional to how much I write).

Mousie, your days in this house are numbered.

Posted by Tiffany on 09/09 at 09:19 AM
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My son: the genius.

Here are some Rosco-isms from this morning:

cute-
Scraping the crumbs from his plate into the trashcan without being told to (or shown how!).

not so cute-
Sitting on the potty and making pooping sounds with his mouth (wrong end, kid).

Posted by Tiffany on 09/08 at 09:22 AM
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He gets it.

Rosco understands that Labor Day is meant to be a day of rest for workers.  His job, if you didn’t know, is being cute and ferocious.  Today, he’s taking a break and is just being cute.

Posted by Tiffany on 09/07 at 01:22 PM
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