So, for those of you who came by yesterday and read this post, you should know that I’m incapable of remaining miserable for very long.
For one thing, being miserable is exhausting.
I spent the afternoon flopped out on the couch, watched two episodes of Private Practice, one episode of General Hospital (and for Mark over at My Simple Life, no, Demi Moore is not back yet) and forgot that I was upset.
Per Mr. Coffeypot‘s comment: “If you give up that easily, perhaps pole dancing is for you. But I think you are stronger than that and that you will retake the class and kick ass in it.”
I am stronger than that.
And I will retake the class next fall.
And next time this year, the fake patient will skip out of the fake hospital in full health, and come back with a small token of his affection in thanks for the excellent care I gave him, and hand over to me one hundred million dollars!!!! Muwahahahaha!
I did briefly consider not doing anything.
Just staying home.
Making homemade soup.
But even this afternoon, while I was wallowing in my misery in the living room, where my children can see me, I had no privacy.
They were like, “Look! There’s Mom wallowing in her misery on the couch! Let’s go be with her!”
At least as a student, I stay in my bedroom where it’s quiet to
blog do my homework, and the children have specific instructions not to bother me.
Don’t get me wrong.
I do like my kids.
I just like them better when they’re in a different room than me.
Today my seven year old had a friend over.
The friend, let’s call him Overly Big for his Age Irritating Boy, says to me, “Can you take us to the park puleeeeeeeze?”
He’s got his hands clasped together, pleading.
I said, “Does that work with your mom?”
He replied, “Does what work?”
“That! The begging?”
He answered, “Yes.”
“Well, it doesn’t work with me. I’m not taking you guys to the park. I didn’t invite a friend over for Terran so I can then take you guys to the park and entertain you. If you can’t figure out what to do here, then I’ll take you back to your place.”
Overly Big for his Age Irritating Boy turns away from me and says to my son, “Geeez…at least my mom is a Yes-Mom.”