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2003-09-16 | 5:08 p.m.

Everything is irritating me today. The kids are being loud and mean to each other. Extremely irritating. Criminy, Jinx, and Rojo were in the treehouse and wouldn't let Felony in, so she moved the ladder. Then they couldn't get down. Rojo yelled, "Shit!" loud enough to be heard three streets away. I moved the ladder back so they could all climb down and then put it in the garage.

The plumber came and plumbed my depths, but there's still about a gallon of black sludge in the basement and I guess everyone is expecting me to clean it up. (That's a joke; actually there's no question but that I'm expected to clean it up. Once you take on diaper duty, you are assigned all subsequent shit details.)

What else. I installed an update to some vague security software that Duff dumped on the computer recently (it's called ZoneAlarm and seems to serve no real purpose). Then I started getting all these screen-hogging porno pop-ups via the previously unknown Windows Messenger Service. As if I need these so-called helper applications to start raising this shit from the dead and then telling me my computer is vulnerable to it. It's like contracting SARS from the WHO doctor. (Heh: Dr. WHO.)

Anyway, whatever. Felony bought some new links for her charmless so-called Italian charm bracelet. I think they're hideous and look like something you'd wear as an in-patient, but Felony likes it, so I keep my opinions to myself. But she comes to me as I am going to the bathroom and for the twelveteenth time asks if I will "help" her put the links on. I say yes, she brings me the bracelet and the new links and disappears. I have no idea how this dumb thing works but I figure it out. You have to slide the top of the link over to reveal a tab on one end and a slot on the other. Okay, fine, but it's hard to hold the bracelet with one link slid open and another link, also slid open, ready to add on. Remember I'm trying to do all this while sitting on the pot. The upshot is after dropping the single link several times, frantically slamming my legs together to keep it from dropping into the toilet, I finally put it in my mouth for safekeeping and damn near swallowed it. That would have been hard to explain.

So I'm supposed to be typing up the school newsletter. I don't know how I get my name down for these things. It always seems easy when you're saying yes. Like my Mom who went to her first tenants' meeting at the new building and complained about how silly, boring, stupid it was, and how she sat there steaming and tapping her foot and waiting for the first chance to get out of there, and how she was never ever ever ever going to another one--except that she'd somehow signed up to bring a dish to the next potluck. I laughed until I cried, because that's the same kind of thing that always happens to me.

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