I’ve recently become convinced that the universe, determined to thwart my productivity and sanity, has staged a giant conspiracy against me. The diabolical genius behind this is relying on the Chinese-water-torture method of a thousand tiny, sneaky attacks on me every day.
The vaccum cord comes unplugged when I only have one more foot of carpet left to clean. The hot water runs out as soon as I get my hair soapy in the shower. I notice (someone else’s) dog poop on the bottom of my shoe AFTER I have tracked through the whole house. The live stream is down on the internet radio program I’ve been looking forward to hearing all day. Gaaah!
Diabolical Genius has even gotten Abby in on this conspiracy (don’t ask me how one turns a child against her mother…I suspect it has to do with bribes of bananas and animal crackers). She makes a big poop just as I try to lay her down in her crib for a nap. When I’ve only brought one paci along on our errands, she manages to drop it in a greasy puddle in the parking lot.
Of course, I don’t know who I’m railing against, but I hope DG has planted mikes throughout my house. That way, when I mutter (or shout) “You WOULD send a solicitor to ring my doorbell just as I’ve gotten the baby to sleep!”, he’ll hear me and know that I’m on to him.
Of course, on my more sane days I hear myself and get a little scared. What kind of world do I think I live in? Could it just be that these inconveniences come from 1) my own carelessness and 2) normal life with a one-year-old in the house?
Sigh. Maybe I have been wound a little tight lately. I guess it’s time to tap the brakes and have a cup of coffee. Decaf, please.