The Kindergoth Escapades

Okay....10 days....22 hours....15 minutes....but who's counting? This was a season. An Experience. Something I don't particularly wanna ever do again. Apparently cats are way smarter than dogs. I will never take my babies and their calmness for granted again. First, it cost me $50 just to get him, but I really wanted him for some reason idk. I guess he reminded me of Harvey, and I needed a little excitement in my life. Who knows. Anyway, we named him "Tank." I wish I had been making notes of our "season" but I didn't decide I wanted to do this until like...today at work. So. He has now found a loving home with one of our firefighters who has a nice big pen for him to play in.  During that 10 days....Tank ate:  1 Leash - replaced for $8 1 nice harness that had to be replaced with a $7 collar that matched the new leash 1 tennis ball (value....50 cents) 1 pair of $14 work pants that I was the saltiest about. I didn't realize they had a giant hole in the

  Seriously. Like have you seen my...will to live?! JK I'm okay, but some days are worse than others. Today is one of those. I'm also struggling to adapt my phalanges to a new keyboard layout and it's giving me hand cramps. First world problems, I'm aware. I so thought today was gonna be a good day. I mean “good” is such a low bar when you're going to work on less than 5 hours of sleep. My current favorite song came on the radio not once but TWICE during my 30+ min commute (2 different stations) I started the day with a cherry vanilla coke (zero) and a minit mart pizza roll that I would later regret, but it was delicious. While prepping to open, Carry on Wayward Son started to play and I ran to the back to turn the music louder. Yes! Today was gonna be a good day. Inventory was on the low side but prep went by super easy and business was slow for several hours. I enjoyed my break and my free* coffee from Panera that was not nearly sweet enough. Then I don

 I'm not just going to lie down and take it. Did you do this to all the other women that have stood where I stand? God forbid they weren't size 2, but I guess your mirror must be broken. Your trips to the gym are certainly paying off.... how many pages were in that last list of medication? How can someone who worked in healthcare be so fucking discriminatory.  Listen, Karen. One thing about me, I'm a big kid. I can take what you dish out and bring it back ten-fold. You haven't seen it yet, out of respect but my patience is paper fucking thin. One more Sunday dinner or holiday that you bring up diets, food, weight, etc. I'm done. I will not be back.  I'm not meek or dull. I've been fighting battles way out of my league since before junior high. I grew up fighting, mostly an abusive father, and all I want is peace. You're ruining my peace. I'm ot going anywhere. I don't know if your intention is to drive me away, but it's not going to fucking w

 SNAP! There it is! Oh, I've been waiting. I always wait for the other shoe to drop, just like my mother did. Things have been so well.  It's definitely PMS because it is sure as fuck isn't pregnancy mood swings I'll tell you that. Oh boy. When you're good you're great but when you're not, I want to crawl into a hole. You'd never lay a hand on me but the deep shrinking feeling in my chest hurts worse than a fist ever could. You jokingly hide your face like I'd raise my fists in anger.  I could never hit you. I mean, maybe... He asks me if I'm talking about him and I chuckle. I'm frantically tapping the keys as these thoughts flow from my fingertips.  My head is aching, but venting feels good. It feels good to use this useless blog as therapy. He appears from the kitchen with snacks... and.... [scene] I love him, I really do. More than I ever have anyone. We will take on the world together and be each other's sounding boards at home. I'

TW: Death, dying, PTSD, Blood  Blogging has to be cheaper than therapy, right? I used to think PTSD was something only possible for veterans.  I thought the use of the phrase was mockery otherwise.   I don't want to bother people, so I keep to myself. My partner and I are both in the fire service. We both have calls we cannot talk about.  Some we experienced together and are able to use each other as a sounding board, and it hurts a little less.  I am less bothered by the presence of a lifeless body than I am by the screaming of their wives..or mothers..when they arrive.  Our most recent fatal crash happened on the night before mother's day. Alcohol and motorcycles do not mix, and for the love of all. Wear a helmet. Her screams played over and over in my head for days. When I closed my eyes, I saw him lying there, covered in a stained white sheet--but not completely. He was tall. His feet stuck out, I stared at them.   Blood pooled on the pavement behind him and I wondered for

  Do you remember the first time you said it was time? You jumped in head first thinking that in 9 months time you would be welcoming a baby. Your dumb ass probably even circled that date on the calendar. You changed all of your fertility apps and tracked your symptoms religously, unsure of who you were trying to convince more.  You stopped smoking, just in case. You were so hopeful. That two week wait came and went and you waited for two more..Again, just in case. Nothing.  That was the first time you tried.  Then months came and went with nothing. Tests got expensive. Calendars got marked with red X's. Over and over and over again. It wasn't fun anymroe, it was a chore.  By then, you've deleted the pinned Baby Names note from your Google Keep, just so you didn't have to be reminded every time you made a grocery list.   Time goes on and it should probably be the furthest thing from your mind at this point, but it isn't. Even with the state of the world, you're

 “I’m robbing Peter to pay Paul,” Mother always said. Always frustrated. Everyone thinks they’re going to do better than their parents until the rubber meets the road.  Now there’s too much month at the end of the money, and I’m not even keeping up with the Joneses.  I thought I was going to be famous . I thought EVERYTHING was going to be my ticket out of that small town I spent my first 23 years in. I spent hundreds of dollars on materials. My way of thinking was if a craft wasn’t made to sell, there was no point in the hobby.  Good old capitalism. Everything has always been about money. I was barefoot in my grandma’s front yard one day, wearing nothing but a diaper. I was CERTAIN I could sell my new “invention” …. Spoiler Alert: that “invention” was nothing more than Grandma’s yarn scraps wound around twigs from her yard.  All the while, I was knee-high to a grasshopper.  The drive never really went away. I mean, I was lazy—don’t get me wrong. I didn’t want to wash dishes, but I wou