This sucky week in review

I've been in such a bilious mood for the last 48 hours. I'm just a little too short on sleep lately, and there's too much going on. Like what, you ask? I'll tell you.

• You already know about the house-selling and house-buying going on. I should be packing, but haven't begun a single box.
• I've scheduled various appointments and deliveries every single day this week, and this sucks. It doesn't feel like summer at all.
• Everyone in my household clearly knows much more than me. Sister is constantly correcting me, and don't get me started on my Husband. Every.fucking.thing. is cause for endless picky discussion and it's exhausting me.
• Oh, and even the rug cleaning guy knows more than me! This guy we hired to clean a couple of dirty rugs comes over yesterday and begins lecturing me about how I shouldn't have tried to shampoo a hand-made rug. (This was a big jute rug that we'd spent all of $100 on--not much considering it's 7X10', so big damn deal!) Anyways, I didn't really know that, so I'm not arguing, but then he proceeds to tell me I really shouldn't have it anywhere it's going to be walked on either. What the hell point is there in having a rug if it's not supposed to be walked on?! He just wouldn't shut up and at one point I even rolled my eyes and stomped my foot in impatience before I could stop myself. He totally saw me, too.
• And the guy who delivered a portable storage unit yesterday that I'm supposed to be filling with packed boxes--HE TOO knows more than me! He really thought I should face the door in a different direction than I wanted it, because really it would be better to wheel the trash can behind the unit rather than in front of the unit. And the door when it was opened might hit a couple of plants nearby. And most people like to prop the door open with a rock or something else heavy so that opening it is just a one-time thing, and then you put boxes in it and move the rock and then closing the door is also just a one-time thing, and also it wouldn't hit the plants there. Guy, would you just shut the fuck up and get in your little forklift and put the unit where I want it?! Jesus H. Christ!
• Bean is still going through this phase of screaming at me and clinging to my legs while I'm trying to cook dinner. I found myself saying to her, "Bean, I am going to rip my own eyelashes out if you don't stop screaming at me." Which then made me laugh hilariously at my own humor and I picked her up and everything was suddenly o.k.
• But I did have to order an emergency evacuation of the bath tub last night when Bean perpetrated a gigantic baby poop explosion on her Sister. Bean's been eating a whole lotta blueberries and raisins lately. Can you picture it? Bet you can.
• Husband and I are hauling Bean and the frickin' dog in the car to Tennessee next week on an 8-hour drive to his family's cabin in the mountains to attend a family reunion on the 4th, plus a cousin's wedding on the 8th. Now, I've been considering confessing my feelings about this trip in case any of Husband's stupid, gossipy running buddies are still reading my blog and teasing him about things they read here. But they can all go fuck themselves if they want. I'm dreading going to this cabin again. I know that time spent in this cabin was very special to Husband's dear mother, but now it's really filthy. Like, ancient clothes moldering in rotting dressers, and ants everywhere, and thick dirt on the floors filthy. And the river it's next to where you'd think it might look fun to swim and go tubing and stuff is fucking freezing cold, even in July. And the rednecks? Damn it, I grew up with these people and never went back to the town where I spent my formative years! I do not now want to vacation with them! They piss me off when they wake me up at night whooping it up on the damn swinging bridge everyone visits at all hours that just so happens to be located right next to this venerated cabin. Sigh. But we'll go again and I'll keep my damn mouth shut and know that at least Bean will have a blast with her Papa. I love my Husband and so I'll never tell him how I feel about this cabin. Don't you fuckers go telling him either.
• I've had a period for 9 days straight now, and am at the bottom of a second box of O.B. What the hell? Am I making up for not having had one for a year after having Bean or something?

And that's all the time I have to bitch, folks. My baby is waking up again, and just for once I wish she didn't wake up screaming every.single.time. Don't some people's babies wake up all cheerful and chatty? Not mine, dammit.