Witchy, Evil Woman

I would stand back from me today. Just stand back. I'm feeling that witchy, twitchy, evil feeling with a touch of fang. I simply have too much to do and not enough time to do it.

There are lists. Lists of people to call, things to remember, bills to pay, work to do, places to go, and actually no people to see thank the high heavens. I should have known that it would be one of those days when I walked into our bedroom, that sacred place, to find dog poop by the bed. Say what?! I know! Dog poop. Somehow I don't think it's from our neighbors dog either. Disgusting as it is I think it was an accident, what H calls a "lost nugget". Choke down whatever you are eating and I'm sorry. I ran to clean that up and on my way into the bathroom I ran SMACK! into the door. The door I closed so T.D. wouldn't play in the bathroom earlier in the day. Yup. It hurt like the dickens.

Later, I tripped over a laundry basket and fell to my knees. I trekked to the grocery store and had "that kid". The one who screams and throws things so you end up slinking out of the store feeling like you should be given the 'Crappiest Mom of the Year' award for not handling your child properly. Now I just have that song by the Eagles, you know the one- Witchy Woman, on continuous loop in my head and I'm developing a facial tic over the bathroom that is STILL not finished.

Some of this is my own fault. If I had decided to work this weekend instead of say, enjoy my time with my family, I would have a finished bathroom... maybe. Maybe. The fact that it's not finished though haunts me. I think of it all the time as I'm home most days. If I could do it myself I would, but I don't have the time or knowledge for some of the items. No offense to H as the man works his ass off, but if it's not done soon (by BOTH of us) I'm going to be more than witchy woman. I'm going to be the woman who scares fifteen year old boys sending them running home to Mommy as I roam around town with a spackling blade swinging a nearly full can of paint muttering things about mint green paint chips and lost time. I'll have a facial tic that will nearly destroy any sort of recognition and my gnarled fingers and bird's nest hair will only enhance my witch-like appearance.

So just stand back. If you come near me don't ask anything of me. Just smile, perhaps offer a treat to me, and I might just lick your hand rather than bite it.

P.S. Ms. Spears alleged comeback last night. Discuss. Seriously America I really had high hopes. I wanted her to do well. She didn't have to have a bangin' body again. She just needed to seem... well, with it. As if she wasn't under the influence of some brainwashing drug or half dead. Also? No more of those outfits Ms. Spears. No more. Not until some dicipline comes back in your life.