Hump Day, Grump Day

courtesy pandawhale.com

Me: I'm grumpy today.

World: ORLY? We had no idea.

Me: But I don't want to be grumpy; I shouldn't be grumpy. I mean, the kids are back in school! For a whole full day! Do you know how magical this in during the extreme winter of fuckupedness? I didn't have to yell this morning to get them going, everyone was dressed appropriately, there was no whining over video games...it was a veritable prancing rainbow unicorn that smiles jelly beans.  And yet, I'm grumpy.

World (sighs, pulls up a chair): So, why are you grumpy?

Me: Well, it started when I got to work and got the samples together to take to the technical center. There four bags of the heaviest, densest stuff we make and a bunch of other things that I had to take up.

World: Well, why didn't you drive?

Me: Are you crazy? I never drive if I can walk; it's all about being a responsible global citizen since it's only 500ish feet away.

World: Plus you want to get your steps in.

Me: ...well, yes. But that's not the point! But if I don't carry them, then my back-up has to and it's too heavy so she'd have to drive, thereby defeating the entire purpose of walking in the first place. Not to mention that I work with several capable men who could certainly assist with the sample schlep but no, my back up is a five-foot-two, 62 year old woman with a bad foot.

World: But...haven't you been lifting weights?

Me: Hey! Focus!

World: Sigh, right, bad lazy men.

Me: Exactly. Then when I get up there, even though I've been carrying these stupid green buckets filled with samples daily for the past four years, someone always has to make a comment about it: 'Hey bucket lady!' 'Wow, that's a lot of buckets!' 'Boy, those look heavy.' etc which makes me want to scream at them to either help or shut the hell up but I can't so I give them a strangled grimace and 1000 yard stare because 'professional' and 'assault charges' and shit.

World: So stupid clueless people are stupid and clueless. What else you got?

Me: Well, I skipped my workout this morning to sleep in a bit since I stayed up late reading...

World: And whose fault is that?

Me: Do you mind?

World: Not at all.

Me: ...so I figured that I'd just do cardio at the gym today but realized when I got to work that I wouldn't have time to go to the gym as I have way too much to do.

World: Yet you sit here writing about your grumpiness....

Me: You're not being very sympathetic.

World: We're not the one whining.

Me: Argh! You don't get it! The kids not being in school threw off my work schedule plus meetings with new head bosses who yawned their way through our discussion followed up by even more pointless strategy planning sessions means that I have an entirely stupid amount of samples to process now! Not to mention yet another head person who doesn't understand what I do because he couldn't stop yawning long enough to listen! Add that to being the only one in the 'leadership group' who had their goals voted on by the group because clearly I'm incapable of setting reasonable goals that it won't matter what they are since I don't get any support around here anyway plus the daily thermostat battle and now the moisture vac machine running six hours a day right outside my office but no one cares since it doesn't affect them....

World: Hm? Did you say something?
.
Me: I think we're done here.

World: Always happy to help.

Hunting for dignity

I go to the gym four to five days a week. It's a nice gym where each cardio machine has its own little TV screen and cable hook-up so for my 15-minute warm-up, I usually turn to HGTV because it can be a delightful train wreck that does not entail me having to use my brain in any way plus I always leave my Kindle at home. (No one needs to see the trash that is the entire 'Sookie Stackhouse' series that I have loaded on there. Also, Eric is an ass. Anyway.) Because I'm on an alternate work schedule, my lunch break generally happens between 1 and 2 pm so not only is the gym empty but for the older set, the best shows are on. And by the best shows, I mean of course, "House Hunters."

If you've lived anywhere but under a rock for the past ten years, you know what House Hunters is about but just in case, a quick recap: clients search for the 'perfect' house, choosing between three possibilities, one of which is always WAAAAAAY over budget. Oddly enough, it's actually compelling viewing...but not for the houses. For the people. Why the people? Think of all that you hate about humanity and wrap it up in 30 minutes. That just about covers it.

What do they want? Well, open floor plan for 'entertaining.' Literally, that is on every. single. wish list. And a gourmet kitchen. And a huge bedroom. And an office. Oh, a backyard would be great. Naturally, a large master bathroom with soaking tub, perfect paint and tile, hardwood floors, double vanities, tons of storage space, in a great location with amazing views and a fantastic school system...all for around $250,000. I so very much want whatever it is that they are smoking...and so do their real estate agents.

Last week I did an extended cardio session so I got to view two (!) episodes. There has never been a more wretched hive of entitlement and delusion. The first couple was in Baltimore (holla! Wait, does anyone say that anymore? Curses, my lack of coolness is showing.) With a $250K budget (check), they wanted, well, everything. The guy was obsessed with what other people would think of their house, the woman wanted uniformity. Seriously, he wanted an amazing space and his own 'man cave' and pitched a hissy fit over anything that wasn't 'impressive' enough. He was clearly still working through some high school issues. She just wanted everything to look the same but with character. Oh, and a master oasis. Their agent looked like he wanted to drop-kick them into the Inner Harbor. I was definitely Team Agent. I wonder if they ever went through with the wedding as they weren't even on the same genre, let alone the same page.

The second episode featured two newlywed twentysomethings from Naples, Florida who had been living with his parents, doing the golf-course dream. He was a physical therapist for a retirement community, she was the jewelry manager for a department store so naturally they wanted to buy in Naples, live on a golf course, have a pool and a golf cart, huge house, gourmet kitchen blah blah blah all for $290K. I really thought that their agent was going to shake them both senseless. Thank goodness my time was up before they made it through the second house so I have no idea which one they chose. Nor do I actually care.

I tweeted about it and it turns out that the production company actually coaches the people to act like entitled assholes, for drama or something. Listen guys, looking for a house is hard enough without being portrayed as a wildly out of touch brat on national TV. Anything for their 30 minutes of fame I guess.

Though, if I'm being honest, I wouldn't turn down a gourmet kitchen. Hey, HGTV, call me!

Rage, rage against the dyeing of the white

(My most sincere, abject apologies to Dylan Thomas for this.)

I've had gray hair since I was 16. That's when I noticed the first one and my mother naturally insisted that no, it can't be a gray hair, it had to be Sun-In. Um, no. Because, you see, it wasn't 'orange'. And she went gray early. As did her mother as no doubt did all the women on that side back to when the first was naught but a silver-hued proto-plankton. So, it's in my blood, er, hair. Anyway, it's been 20-something years and thanks to the miracle of L'oreal, I've been able to hide the worst. Well, when I actually color it. Which I'm not right now because really, when you spend 75% of your day in a hair net, who the hell cares? Plus the whole 'do I dye it my 'natural' color or what it's going to fade to shade of sad' internal debate is too much most days to contemplate as my original color is a very dark brown (thanks, Dad) and the color fades to blonde so eh, gray it is.

Naturally, the gray is heaviest around my face, framing it. Like chrome rims only the opposite of cool. It's not super obvious when it's down (shut up and allow me my delusions) but pulled back? I might as well have a personal spotlight. (And to my sisters who were blessed with not only the lighter-colored hair to start but also the 'normal' graying cycle? If I ever hear either of you bitch about gray hair, duck because heavy objects will fly through the air with extreme prejudice. Just saying.)

Yesterday I hit the gym during my lunch break and since between the sweat and the hairnet/hardhat combo I was the epitome of sexiness, I decided that once I got home I'd use the dry shampoo I had bought for Noah's camping trip last fall. (Damn straight I brought dry shampoo to use in the woods because not only is my hair mostly gray, it's also fine and thin and therefore an oil slick. I like to pretend that I have some standards.) So I brushed out my hair, applied the dry shampoo, brushed it again and went on my merry way to Cub Scouts with Noah. It was totally so I wouldn't embarrass him and had nothing at all to do with not wanting to look (or smell) like I had just climbed out of a sewer. True story, swear to God.) I must not have brushed all the powder through my hair thoroughly enough because getting him ready for bed he said to me "Mommy, your hair is white."

"Yeah, I know bud."

"You're going to die soon."

Uh, okay.

"Well, I had a good run."

"Don't worry Mommy, just color your hair and you won't die!"

I'm not sure what concerns me more: that he doesn't seem to mind if I die or that cheap drugstore hair color is the fountain of youth after all. But at least my hair will be fabulous either way.