The continuing saga of my lack of graciousness as a human being…
So this morning, the most annoying presence in the household, we’ll call him Bubba, came downstairs where I was preparing the all-American breakfast of hashed browns, eggs, and bacon.
Good breakfast! He exclaimed heartily.
My little one and I were the only others up, and I prepared a small plate for my boy, and told Bubba he’s welcome to have as much as he likes, because Gadget doesn’t particularly like that kind of bacon.
What’s wrong with it?
Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s actually the expensive gourmet super thick sliced kind, but it seemed very salty, the last time we had it.
So. He takes a tiny portion of everything, and proceeds to pick away at it and inspect it and look quizzical at each laborious bite. As if it’s the most disgusting thing he’s been expected to endure.
Had I not mentioned anything, and had the others been awake, he’d probably have wolfed down loads of it with gusto. As is, he wore a pained expression on his face and took ages to finish.
I know, it sounds petty, and it is petty, but it’s just one more addition to things that annoy me.
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Yesterday, Gadget took Bubba to work with him. Oh, the dramatic expressions at the end of the day. One would think that the kid had been subjected to slave labor. All he did was help install some appliances, for maybe half of a day, but I suppose it was the longest working day he’s ever had in his life (a deplorable shame, if you ask me). He’s in for an adjustment, when he will have to work a full day every day, and with his skill set, he’s in for long days of manual labor. Or another burden on society and the welfare system.
When he got home, he stretched out on the couch and moaned and sighed every once in a while about how exhausted he was. I ignored it completely. I think he wanted me to say something, but what am I going to say? At the dinner table, he picked away at his food, again groaning and sighing. Poor, overworked, exhausted boy.
As is quite obvious, I’ve got little patience and respect for the non-hard-working. I don’t think it matters so much what one does, or how much one makes, but to do it with ambition and dedication.
Meanwhile, I had the girl, we’ll call her Sissy, clean the carpets. She did a right fine job. I did the loading and emptying of the water and soap reservoir, but she ran the machine. I think we went through at least 12 changes of water over the course of a few hours. I let her stop after two carpets, and when I had my work break, I did my office, then after my work day was over, I did the kitchen stools.
We had an ice cream treat when it was finished, and took a small outing to the store, which in itself was a treat. Oh, Bubba was jealous that Sissy got to go to the store!
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I’ve been having trouble with charlie horse cramps in my legs at night, and finally got a magnesium supplement to try and help. I don’t care if it’s just a placebo effect — I got through a night without cramps. However, I spent the full next day on the verge of cramps and could barely walk, so I don’t know what was up with that. I still took some magnesium before bed last night, and thankfully, no cramps in the night and I can walk today. My tailbone is very sore though. This little wonder inside of me feels like he’s kicking and punching all limbs simultaneously! I feel jabs in all quadrants of my belly. He’s a little gymnast, just like his brother, who twists and turns in all directions in the night. Little tyke tried to crawl into my bed twice last night — he’s on strict restrictions, having wet the night previously. Stinker boy. Mister Pee-body.
