I had a moment.

For a few minutes just now, I was filled with an intense...ire. I wanted to kick a cat, or the Evil Genius, or anyone else who made a demand for my time or energy. I wanted to scream "God damn it, I'm sick - I am so rarely sick enough to warrant sitting limply in this chair (that right now I hate with a purple passion), can't you people, animals, and freakin' sales people, churches, installers, and everyone else with my phone number and an urge to dial it...can't you just let me the fuck alone for ten minutes?"

Then I had a little panic, too. We have these people putting in some funky magnetic storm windows in the living room and Bird's room. It is supposed to help keep these rooms insulated and lower heating/cooling bills. They were supposed to call me when they left the job before us (giving me an hour's warning or so), but they didn't. Instead, they called a few miles from the house. Argh! I need time to reconcile myself to strangers in my house. I need time to brush my hair and contain Bird and make an effort at doing something with the dishes in the sink that no one but me ever seems to notice or do anything about. I need time to move the furniture in front of the windows so they can do their job because there is no way I can let them move that furniture because there is no way they will do it my way, which is the only right way because (have I mentioned?) I have OCD!!

And the dishwasher is full of clean dishes from two days ago because I am also the only one, apparently, who empties the fucking thing.

And the thrice damned phone keeps ringing.

And T is supposed to be here, because his old job ended and the new one wasn't supposed to start until Monday, but he opted to start yesterday and I shouldn't be mad but he didn't ask me about it and I had to cancel an appointment today at the gym (that I couldn't go to anyway because I am sick, but that doesn't matter because I am being unreasonable) because he wasn't here in case the window people called and wanted to come early and I know I shouldn't be pissed that he's being proactive and I know he's been bored silly the few days he's had off but I am still unreasonably irritated and...

Breathe.

Just...breathe.

Sometimes, having a combination of OCD, paranoia, and the delightful phobias makes life interesting. You know...in that Bedouin "may you have an interesting life" curse kind of way. I have, of late, taken to letting go of the internal pain I feel when anyone but the people living in this house comes over and sees the mess. I may wince, inside, but I let them in and explain that I'm a rotten housekeeper, which is true. I am also a resentful, angry housekeeper, but they don't need to know that. Then I try to let go of my need to have an Ozzie and Harriet kind of home. I have a kid, three cats, and two adult men to feed and clean up after and I hate doing it (the cleaning part - you do't get as big as I am if you hate cooking), so it often doesn't get done as well or as often as it could. Ozzie and Harriet had set decorators, prop masters, and all they had to do was pretend that they had that nice, neat little life. I bet their closets were full of whips and chains and suppressed rage.

For some reason, waking up to find pizza boxes for me to put away (or have to throw out the pizza, and I hate, hate, hate wasting food) made me grumpy. The bags of trash that should have gone out two days ago but didn't, and won't unless I nag T or take them myself (and don't even ask why I don't just take the damn things out myself, because my head might just explode at that kind of reasonableness)(and T didn't take them out because he was sick and trying to help get Bird's room clean so the window guys wouldn't go ass-over-teakettle in there) exacerbated things. Feeling like two kinds of crap didn't help any. And then there were the damn dishes...the "I cook, you clean" dishes that are always left for me to do because even though I cooked, no one cleaned...the fucking dishes ....aaarrrrrggggghhhhhh!! And strangers in my house...whimper...

They're perfectly nice men. One older gentleman, two younger (one of whom looks a bit like Taye Diggs and has a Senegalese accent and how on earth can I be unhappy about that?)(Maybe he'll take his shirt off)(Whew), all terribly sweet to Bird who is desperate to watch and be a part of everything they do because he's a kid and kids are largely made up of curiosity. Curiosity and snot. With a few snuggles thrown in so we don't kill them when they get to be too much. So these men are nice enough, but I don't know them. And apparently today, the very idea of people I don't know being in my home long enough to take so much as one breath was enough to send me into a snit - a...moment.

As soon as they're gone, I'll be fine. For now, all I can do is paste a smile on my face and try to keep the Evil Genius out of their way without involving duct tape. And...umm...maybe stare at this picture I found of Taye Diggs in a swim suit:


Sorry it's so small...the one I really wanted to post was part of a slide show and I couldn't figure out how to copy it, and this one gets all pixel-y when I try to make it bigger. Dang ineptitude.