Trying to Scream but it Just Comes out as a Yawn,yeah...

It started off with my 4 year old getting up at 5:30 a.m. and Mr.C. not sending him back to bed. Needless to say it set the tone for a very cranky child. Later in the morning, we packed into the car to go to Walmart to get some hurricane supplies, because we might be getting a visit from Wilma. The tracks are showing her staying off the eastern provinces but who knows...it has intensified back into a Cat 3. The God Damned Canadian Hurricane Centre is good for nothing, and so I am relying on the National Hurricane Centre for updates....they are amazing. I am annoyed at our forecasters, some of whom I know personally, which is really frightening because I know just how inept they actually are.

While in the WalMart, I proceded to drop an entire carton of eggs on the floor, look around to see if anyone saw, and then left them there, and picked up one of every non-perishable food there was on the shelves as if Armageddon were tomorrow. We return to the parking lot to find one of these sandwiched a few centimetres from the drivers side of my car:



The driver looked something like the bitty above. I couldn't get the car seat into the car so I had to crawl across the backseat and then climb into the front seat. The old bat just looked at me and then didn't she almost run me off the road a little later...God damn seniors shouldn't be driving... Decided to go to the library and got stuck in a ten second torrential downpour as I was carting both children into the place. Soaking wet. Cranky. Chatty mothers with their brats. Ughhhh.

Once we're home, I am hopeful for a bit of relaxation; I had bought my 4 year old a new DVD at WalMart and thought that would give me a bit of a break to feed the baby and get a bit of tidying done, and maybe put some kind of thought into dinner. The DVD skipped. MooOOoom, it's skipping. I have written a Geography Textbook, can make computerzied maps, operate many types of software, completed a PhD, but I still can not operate the God Damned DVD player. Mr. C. calls; baby is screaming, preschooler freaking out. Is this a bad time? I sense the regret that he has called only to find out that chaos is reigning and I am out of my mind. I think I hung up on him.

We switch to VHS. Pop in a video. Can't get that to work either. I wish Dad were here. No words annoy me more. Hmmm me too. I mutter. Babe is fussing; spitting up for the gazillionth time, 4 year old crying...Mr. C. finally gets home. 4 year old gets a can of the Armageddon/Chef Boyardee spaghetti from a can. This spaghetti doesn't taste good. Me: I know. Eat it anyway. Mr. C. and I order donairs. I'll be up with nightmares or worse all night....

Did I mention I have PMS (sorry guys)...
With this kind of luck, you may not be hearing from me for days if our power goes out tomorrow.