When you're unemployed, 5pm is a reasonable time to wake up. As I made my way downstairs I was greeted with the sweet sweet smell of filthy cat litter. We rarely clean the litter box since the dog eats most of the clumps for us anyway. I guess that's one good thing about that dog.
Coffee is always a hassle in my house. The kind we buy is so nasty that it would make more financial sense to just filter hot water through shredded newspaper rather than spend the money to buy something that looks like a mixture of gravel and rodent droppings! It tastes pretty close too. Besides all that, though, it's the act of preparing the coffee that's the real challenge. Mostly because the kitchen sink always looks like this:
It takes at least ten minutes to clear a space on the counter to store the dishes from the sink just so I can fit my coffee pot under the faucet! Of course there's always left over coffee that has to be dumped first. Today I REALLY needed a cup of joe stat, so I peeled the mold off the stale coffee and nuked it while the fresh pot was brewing. Of course the microwave always trips the circuit breaker whenever it gets used, so I had to run back and forth to the basement several times just to enjoy a nice cup of stale, moldy coffee. I can't believe this is my life.
My kids know better than to come near me before I've had my morning coffee (or liquor depending on what's more readily available on any given day). Today, however, my oldest son wouldn't get off my back. He kept following me around shouting in that shrill voice that he inherited from his mother about a permission slip of some kind. Oh, and I guess I was drunk one day last week and promised to fix his bike and play ball with him or some such nonsense. Right, like that'll ever happen! By the time I made my way to the basement for the third time to flip the circuit breaker, I'd had enough and had to straighten him out a little bit:
Man, I just realized how much my house looks like Sid's room!
I can't wait to finish my coffee so I can get on to the drinking.
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