I have decided to compile a list. I am cranky and I think that this will be very therapeutic. It might even save a life because getting the grumps out has been proven to stop people from doing things they might later regret. So, to that end, here it is.
Sheepish Annie's Stoopid List:
Winter is so stoopid it doesn't know that its reign of terror is over. Winter should cut its losses and get out of here before everyone starts to realize how utterly and insanely stoopid it is. But does Winter do this? No. Winter does not. Winter shows up on a Monday afternoon and starts dumping snow on us like crazy. It's not even sticking, for crying out loud! It's just blowing all over the place and getting in my eyes and I hate it but not as much as I hate Winter for being so stoopid!!!
It's over, Winter! Move on!!!
#2. The Common Cold
Actually, I'm not targeting every cold. Just the one that seems to think it is better than everyone else. I've had a few colds this season. The sniffles and snuffles start in and try to insinuate themselves into my otherwise happy-go-lucky existence. It doesn't last long, though.
After a fashion, the cold runs up against my Flu Shot. Soon it comes to the conclusion that I am now immortal and slinks off like a good cold should. I've yet to succumb. My Flu Shot has rendered me impervious. I told my doctor about this and she didn't say I was wrong so I know I am right.
But this cold isn't playing by the rules. At first I thought it was a Super Smart Cold that was lying in wait while all the Little Colds With No Self Esteem ran their courses and made me tired. But now I think it is just stoopid. It can't seem to process what its brethren figured out in a matter of days and keeps tickling my nostrils. I'm fairly certain that my Flu Shot is laughing at it, but I can't really tell because it is hard to hear over the sounds of my own sneezes.
I will be very glad when this so totally stoopid cold gets with the program and goes away like a good virus should when faced with the god-like powers I now possess thanks to my Flu Shot....
Most meetings are extremely stoopid. The worst kind, however, are the ones that fall on a Monday morning and force me to spend my weekend typing up notes in case things go horribly awry. The stoopidest part of it is that I know perfectly well that the notes probably won't be required. Unless, of course, I don't do them. Then they will be the most essential words ever transcribed in the history of meeting notes. Hence, I must spend my Sunday typing my fingers down to the nub to ward off the stoopid before it catches me right between the eyes.
When you combine a stoopid cold with the need to have notes for a stoopid meeting on a stoopid Monday morning, you have the perfect storm. The stoopid will rise up in a great wave and crash over you, drowning you before you can so much as cry out for help.
No. My notes never so much as left my folder, in case you were wondering. I did a Spell-Check and everything. They were not needed.
#4. Me. I Am Stoopid.
For some reason, and I don't recall just when I first got to thinking this, I believed I was in charge around here. I thought that my status as wage-earner and wielder of opposable thumbs gave me some kind of a leg up in the pecking order.
I do not. I am just some chump who wanders around the place for the general amusement of the feline residents.
The Very Complicated Kitty has been giving me a hard time about eating his morning food. Normally, I'd just say, "Oh well! No harm, no foul. You eat it when you're ready, sweet boy!" But he needs to eat his food because that is where I hide his pill. He needs the pill to retain a sense of calm in his otherwise stress-filled existence. Furthermore, he needs to get the pill into him before his brother, the Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty, swoops in for a nosh. I don't have time to mess around with this, especially on a weekday morning. So, yesterday, when the VCK pulled his little power-play stunt, I took his food away. No more. I delivered a lengthy lecture on the subject of who runs this place and how things were going to change around here. Then I went about my day.
As did the VCK.
How is it that I thought there would be no retribution? How could I have not predicted his nibbling on everything of a non-edible nature he could find until the next feeding time rolled around? How did I ever let myself believe that a strand of working sock yarn wouldn't be chewed in half as part of the ongoing assault on my faulty belief system?
I'll tell you how. I'm stoopid, that's how. Too stoopid to be allowed amongst the smarter folk. I'm the sort of person who tucks my skirt into my pantyhose and dances merrily through my day, believing that all the stares and smiles are because I am so totally awesome.
My punishment for this is having to tie the sodden, slimy strands together. It is a patterned sock yarn and I can't find the repeat. Well...maybe I could. But I don't trust myself to do this because of the stoopidity.
You know something? It is as I thought. I do feel better after writing down my list! The stoopid stuff is all still pretty much stoopid, but venting seems to take some of the pressure off. This is a good thing. Mental health is extremely important, you know.
Especially given that tomorrow night is the second round of Parent/Teacher Conferences and I have to sit there for four hours with no one to talk to except for my cold...
The Story of the Sweatshop
5 hours ago