On the Edge

I've been in a crap mood; have had a funk-filled bunch of grouchy days; I just can't seem to shake my urge to choke someone or call in sick--or both. And I have no idea why.

Maybe it's the two women who almost ran over me and my child on our bike while driving in their SUVs, you know, the giant-size cars wrapped in lots and lots of metal that could actually kill people riding bikes? Yeah, that kind.

Or maybe it's the fact that Sabine has taken to sticking her hand in her diaper and approaching me with her findings every time she poops, when she REFUSES to use a toilet.

Perhaps it's the fact that I will never, ever again know what it's like to be totally free because even when I do get a break, I feel like something is missing or I obsess over whether or not Sabine is okay.

Or maybe it's the fact that we have no air conditioning in our bedroom and live in a place so hot it feels like I'm trapped inside a wool sock inside a sauna in the desert while wearing a fur coat in the middle of summer.

Or it could be the fact that I've barely traveled in three years and I really need to see something other than these four walls. It's like watching the same television show or reading the same book over and over again.

Perhaps it's that the three of us (Kadin, Sabine and I) are getting sick AGAIN. When Kadin is sick, he turns into chicken little and the sky is in fact falling. And when Sabine is sick, she cries for hours on end and will do nothing but sit in my lap--and cry.

It could also be the fact that so many people SUCK and I can't stop thinking about my neighbor, who is apparently racist.

It might be that I HATE not having my own income even though it's much more important to me to be the one taking care of little Sabine during the day.

It could also be the fact that there's a child in our neighborhood who tortures Sabine on a daily basis and  as a result, I have an overwhelming urge to kick him in the balls even though he's only three and a half.

Maybe, too, it's that we live near a train stop and every time I'm in a hurry or just want to get home, the damn train comes and I can't move. It's like it knows it's me and chooses that EXACT time to approach THAT station just to f*ck with me.

Or perhaps it's that Kate Middleton seems to be disappearing before our very eyes. She was already beautiful--why does she have to starve herself so that her waist is the size of my wrist?

I think it could also be that if I watch Yo Gabba Gabba (Brobee is officially the whiniest, most high-pitched little booger on TV) or Sesame Street one more time, I might have to poke my eyes out.

Ugh. The good news: I'm also on the edge of the weekend. Happy Friday.

Image by Minga