When you live in South Florida, what seem like minor issues to most are MAJOR issues for us.
For example:
- Hurricanes in the Atlantic, Hurricanes in the Gulf.
- Snow Birds (OMG! Is it time for them to migrate North yet?!)
- Air Conditioners that crap out in the middle of the night and (instantaneously) turn your house into a sauna.
This week has been one of those weeks that occurs maybe twice a year. This week has been one of those weeks where issue after issue, problem after problem pops up, some kind of major and all you can do is say Fuck. A. Duck a few times...and then a few more times...until you take a deep breath and give into the notion that sometimes, SHIT HAPPENS.
I just wish that all this shit that did happen could have been somewhat considerate and spread itself over the span of a couple weeks.
A 30-something gal, who BTW is being visited by Aunt Flo (who seems to be prolonging her visit...getting older is fucking fantabulous) can only handle so much crap before the load of shit gets to heavy. In other words, enough with the nasty karma already. I don't have a prescription for xanax. Hitting up the neighbors for some would only confirm what they (I am sure) already think...she's crazy.
After the day we had yesterday, I went to bed feeling like the climax of problems and issues had occurred, tomorrow was Friday, the finish line, the long weekend. Light at the end of the very long tunnel.
I was wrong. The climax had not yet been reached.
I woke up this morning in an awesome mood. Leonardo DiCaprio was trying to charm me away from The Big Guy (it didn't work). All night long. I had one of those dreams where you wake up and fall back to sleep after checking the time and just like that, your dream picks up where you paused it. All night long I had two handsome, sexy men battling it out for my affection. I went on dinner dates, vacations, beaches and bars with both of my sexy suitors. It was the best dream ever.
And then...I realized I was hot.
And not in a hot and bothered kind of way. The house was hot. The AC crapped out during the night. Fuck. A. Duck. I got the kids up and going. Made them breakfast. Made the lunches. I kind of wanted to cry. The shit ton of crap from the week was about to spill all over the kitchen floor. Luckily I decided to take a deep breath and remind myself that if I dropped the shit, I was the only one who would clean it up. I decided to take a deep breath in and remind myself that shit happens and I can't control it. All I could do was call the AC company back at 8:00 AM (how dare they not be open at 7:15) and hope a guy can get out here ASAP.
Lucky for me, they can. And so I now wait for the AC guy, the window of arrival covers most of the day. Also lucky for me, the weather. Thank you South Florida for only going to hover around 92 degrees today, with no clouds in the sky and no breeze to circulate the air. And a big thank you to Aunt Flo for prolonging her visit and behaving in a super plus can't even handle you way....
...with the way the week has gone, I just know the second I go into the bathroom to make sure I am not about to dye my shorts a reddish tone, the doorbell will ring and I will have to make a split second decision as to whether I have time to replace the existing, about to be breached, support that is in place or chance that the new reddish hue will match my eye color....
Karma...don't be a bitch.
(As soon as I typed those words, the doorbell rang. No, no silly, it wasn't the AC guy. It was Jehovah Witness. OF COURSE IT WAS...)
