I've had more than enough of this nonsense. I've been patient (sort of) and aimed for understanding (haven't sent any chakrams flying before asking any questions, which I think ought to count for a lot).
But that's over. My time as your doormat has come to an end, Life. I'm not your whipping boy any more.
So, Life? Your bitchslapping habit stops NOW. I mean it. You will learn to speak kindly to me with KIND WORDS, Life, I am serious here.
So let's set out the rules and expectations:
* No more "my house is falling down around my ears and holy crap where will we get the money to fix THAT?!?!" House, home, appliances, including but not limited to cars, as well, will remain in fine working order.
* I'm all done with flooding and flood damage. It's not even freaking hurricane season yet and I've suffered more damage than in two tropical storms and one hurricane in the last couple of years...this winter.
* The Raynaud's attacks stop NOW. I need full functionality of my hands and feet. I can't be having them go all frostbite, numb and non functional. It screws with my typing.
* Rejection letters will come to a halt and be replaced with acceptance letters. (Okay so far not so good on this one. As I typed this entry in popped another big fat no thanks to my email. Although, wow, THANK YOU for actually sending an answer and being so courteous about your rejection. I mean, somehow I feel complimented while being rejected from that one! I wish more editors were like you!)
* Mood surges end. Not mine (although feel free to end those too). I mean the children. I need some consistency for a bit, just so I can remember how to unclench my hands and teeth and lift my rib cage to inhale air. I'm so tired of tiptoeing through each moment never sure if we've got Jekyll or Hyde on board. It is no consolation that my neighbor with 16 year old girl says welcome to the rest of your children's lives.
* Trashmen will actually dump my trash bin into the truck rather than all over my lawn and drive.
* When I ask a question of a service provider they will (a) tell the truth and (b) respond graciously and courteously. They will not rant and rave, put me on hold endlessly, prevaricate, or act as if I ought to be thankful that they even provide to me the service I pay dearly for. And they guy who said, "Ma'am, sometimes appliances break down. It's the nature of the machine. I can't believe you're complaining, I mean, you got six months out of it. These things just happen. Get over it!" I want his physical address. I'm going to go snip some wires. Or something. Barring that, feel free to take your bitchslappy nature, Life, over his way and slap away. Also? While you're karmically at it? Could you please ensure that AT&T suffers some massive justice? Best Buy too? And whoever decided it was SMART to switch over to digital touchpad controls instead of dials...take him or her down as well.
* Please provide ample fertility to the lady who was such a megabitch about me being a working mother with kids. Let her have three sets of triplets in a row, or better. I'm sure one would do it, but I want her life to be extra, extra special and filled with generous and bountiful blessings of children. And then I want her to need to continue her career, while juggling that with kids so she can suddenly, one day, feel utterly nauseated with the recollection that once upon a time she was absolutely vicious to a woman struggling to keep her career on track after kids.
* I want the six people who seriously owe me an "I'm so freaking sorry, Julie, that was really not cool," to apologize to me. Unprompted.
* Let my HSA agree to pay for at least half my meds. It's still out of my pocket but easier and better. I mean, if I have to spend over $400 a month minimum on med COPAYS, at least let it come out of my own health savings account. Righto? And why should they get to tell me what is and isn't necessary to my health, anyway?
* Public schools: please become the place we are glad to send our kids to, rather than a place that we feel at best ambivalent about. After frantic scanning, searching and numbers crunching, it is impossible for us to remove our daughter and provide her the best, the ideal, the education we feel she deserves--at a private school. Please don't make me feel sick about that. Please. Let me have my goal at the private school ("enrich my daughter and engender in her a love of curiosity, learning, the world, herself, and the people around her") be a reasonable goal with you, instead of my current goal with you ("don't crush my child please don't crush my child, don't ruin her don't let her fall through the cracks, teach her something valuable, please please please").
* Okay okay we canceled our upcoming Vegas vacation. Unexpected expenses and current financial situation make it unwise. There. We are being smart, making grown-up decisions. Can that count as a point in our favor? Please?
* Just let it work. Nicely. Well. Please.
Okay. Whew. I appear to feel all done. But I reserve the right to add to the list...
And you, dear readers, don't forget Hump Day and your Hmm tomorrow. Yes, you can do this topic! Click here to see the topic and directions. This one is so important to me that I will put the names of all participants in a hat and draw a name for either a printed 8x10 of one of my art photos OR a free editing session for a blog post or similar. Winner's choice. My talent and sense of self-worth is on the line now. :)
Copyright 2008 Julie Pippert
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