Aw…Thanks for the nice compliments about my hair…you gals are all so sweet! And yes, Justin does have his redeeming moments…yesterday morning just happened to be one of them and I was feeling warm and fuzzy enough from the coffee to mention it. Now if he could’ve reminded me (1) before dinner, (2) after dinner, (3) before I ran out to the store at 8:30pm last night, (4) after I arrived home at 9:45pm last night, (5) before or after I made the baby’s bottles, or (6) anytime before 10:30pm that he still needed some white socks, I would totally let him off the hook. But um, getting a reminder at 10:30pm when I’m going to bed for the first time in weeks before 11:30pm was not cool. Especially since he does have the knowledge and physical capacity to start his own load of white socks and t-shirt and could’ve had them nearly done by the time I arrived home from the store. But instead, I got the “um, I still need white socks.” I look at him blankly, thinking, “is he FOR REAL? He’s kidding, right? I’m gonna open the laundry room and see that he did his own socks and is just teasing me.” Nope. So I start a small load of socks and t-shirts for him, then sit up reading until the washer finishes somewhere around 11:15pm, throw the clothes in the dryer, and go to bed at 11:22pm. And I better not hear one joke about that I actually did get to bed before 11:30pm because those 8 minutes do not mean crap in my book.
About an hour later, I hear Cooper up whining and talking to himself. I pull the covers over my head and will him back to sleep. No dice. He keeps talking and moaning and whining. Finally around 1:30am, after he’s had a good hour of entertaining me, he gets annoyed and decides he’s hungry. I get up, feed him, rock him for a while (he seemed really restless and I was not willing to bring him back to my bed), and got back to bed around 2:20am. I was not a happy camper this morning. Which is why I’m still whining instead of giving you some snarky letters to my fellow DC-area drivers. Okay. I’ll shut up now and not get into the conspiracy theory I have about Cooper changing alliances and now partnering with Justin in his attempt to keep me ridiculously sleep deprived. Just please excuse me if you hear any yawning or overt B-n-M (bitching-n’-moaning…not to be confused with BM, which is a nice way of say “poop”).
Dear Cancer Cultivator in the Silver Prius:
We have a lot of you little “green” cars around here. And I love it. I love that all of you have gone out and bought your hybrids for the sake of the Earth and your gas budgets. Virginia loves it so much that they give you cool “Clean Fuel” license plates and allow you the privilege of driving in the HOV lane by yourself! What I don’t love is that while I’m behind you in my little car, you are chain-smokin’ like a man on death row! I actually saw you light your new cigarette with the old one! (please, I’m crabby, no remarks about how close I was driving at 60+mph) The traffic wasn’t even all that bad…I’d hate to see what you do when there’s an accident and they close down 3 lanes. I am of the belief that all the smoke you had billowing out of your car windows completely negated your hybrid vehicle and that you should be banished to the regular travel lanes where the 30mph speed more warrants your anxiety-ridden chain-smoking.
A Concerned (about my lungs) Driver
Dear Clueless Lady in the Red Jimmy:
Please, please, please, for the love of all that is sacred and holy (and whole), get your brake-lights fixed. You have to be aware from all the chronic brake-screeching behind you that you lack any sort of warning lights letting drivers behind you know that you are slowing down. I’m sure the gentleman in the Nissan between us would agree since he very nearly climbed into your back-seat. At first, I thought that maybe this was a new issue and you might possibly be on your way to get your brake lights repaired this very instance until I noticed that besides having expired license plates, your state inspection tag appears to be a bit over-due as well, meaning that more than likely you been having a great ol’ time watching in your rear-view mirror as the drivers behind you bug their eyes out in panic at your quick stops, like at that light where it just turned yellow as you approached the intersection. Any TRUE Virginia driver will tell you that you can run 6 or 7 cars through the intersection AFTER it’s turned red. Stopping is just a suggestion, not a requirement. And in your case, you (and the rest of us driving behind you) would be better off if you did run a few stale yellow (or even red) lights once in a while.
A Concerned (about my front bumper) Driver
Dear Very Important Parent at my Sons’ Daycare:
I appreciate that you are in a hurry to get to your job and that the rest of us are simply schmucks. I understand that your need to park improperly supercedes any of the rest of us who need to park to drop off our children, because you are a VIP. I totally get it that I was out of line by getting out of my vehicle and trying to retrieve my baby from his carseat in the backseat while you were in the building and not-yet-in-your-car. So in light of your VIPness, I hope you appreciate the scratch down the side of your car from when you opted to walk out of the building, smile at me, hop in your car, start it up, and put it in reverse while I was still retrieving my child from my car. That scratch was a special gift from my car door to you. I guess I should also thank you for allowing me to quickly slam my back door and hop around behind my car before you popped off your passenger-side mirror and/or slammed my own door on my baby and me. That was incredibly decent of you and I hope you saw the gracious words of thanks coming from my lips.
A Glad (to be alive? to have my car paid-off? to not have my baby caught in the car door like a white t-shirt? ) Driver
Hope everyone has a blessed Good Friday and a Lovely Easter!
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