I try to be a Good and DecentTM human being. I swear I do. I screw up sometimes. I am lazy. I am a horrible procrastinator (sorry Leah). I am fat. But other than THAT, I do ok, or so I think.
It isn't enough for the people in my life.
Tonight I am in the doghouse with Mr. Stapler for not paying him enough attention. I told my neighbor Jay that I would dogsit his german shorthair pointer Oscar, which means putting the dog in the house at night and letting him out in the morning. Which means I am not at Mr Stapler's. I thought I was being a good neighbor. Apparently I am being a shitty girlfriend.
I am working this weekend because I am totally f***ing broke. Goldie's veterinary needs and my $400 brake job AND my overdue taxes have put me in Top Ramen territory, balefully regarding my double-digit bank balance.
So my mom told me I was working too hard and I was going to get sick and I should be careful.
If I spend a lot of time with Mr Stapler she says the same thing. If I spend time doing other things, she tells me that I need to not neglect Mr Stapler.
Is it any wonder I want to hole up in my little bat cave and eat my organic bananas I grew myself and drink Tanqueray and Tonics while obsessively reading my Bloglines??
Jesus. I wish everyone would quit busting my chops and stop trying to make me feel bad. As I have said before, that is something I am perfectly capable of doing on my own. I do not need any help.
Instead of working or dogsitting, I am going to take some meth or pick up a couple bikers at the local Hells Angels HQ or sing karaoke or do something truly worry-worthy. To make it all worthwhile. (First, I will have to find someone to tell me how one "takes" meth.)