Hosed

It’s amazing how a morning can start, and within the hour, you want to run screaming into the night—straight into the arms of any waiting zombie, just to get it over with. Okay, even I can admit that is tad bit dramatic.
I have had to remind myself several times just to breathe today, and I’ve only been awake two hours. I have so many great things this week: bff’s birthday tonight, dinner with PCSVLDRL’s on Thursday, and an all day date on Saturday. All which require money. While going over things this morning, I was reminded how money seems to be allergic to me. The fun fact about all these ‘things’ that require money? You can’t do your second job during those times to earn the money to do them. Conundrum….
Then, I get to work, and see an email that says I’m getting a new girl today. (SIED girls are SCARY!) This after learning I’m getting a new fourth grade boy in the next week. This puts me at fourteen kids. Which sounds like nothing—but just to give you perspective—MOST SIED programs have four to eight kids (or at least they used to). Breathe!
On a fun note, the huge bump on my head is a lot smaller than yesterday, only hurts a little, and I am no longer dizzy. After a dear friend did a lot of research on vacuums a few years ago, Chad and I followed her results and bought one of the heaviest vacuums ever made. I’ve always thought women should be insulted by vacuum commercials by insinuating that they are so weak they can’t lift a vacuum. Well, I’m one of the stronger people I know, and I hate using this vacuum. It’s exhausting! I honestly have no idea how women and smaller men use it. It was crazy expensive (of course, I hate the idea of paying for things that cause you to do work that you don’t wanna do—so there is no such thing as a cheap vacuum). Anyway, as I was vacuuming the steps yesterday (I was a good boy—had the day off—didn’t write, didn’t go to a movie, didn’t even sleep in—cleaned for hours!). I was on step four, which means the monster vacuum was four steps above me—I was using the hose thingy. The vacuum decided it was not satisfied to simply kill my back and make me breath hard (if it ain’t sex, it ain’t worth it), and wants to kill me instead. It flies off the landing (it really must have, because it didn’t hit the other stairs on the way down) and smashes into the top, back part of my head (from landing, into air, into skull). I screamed (not girl scream, but wounded animal scream—didn’t know I could make that noise), threw the vacuum across the room, cursed worse than ever before, and laid on the ground in a fetal position with my hands clasped over my head until I could quit bellowing. I thought the whole egg on the head immediately was only in Donald Duck cartoons. Nope. It was instantaneous. When I looked in the mirror, where the bump was, my hair was standing straight on end—which was pretty humorous, I must admit.
Today, I’m wishing the vacuum would have done it kamikaze mission a little more thoroughly.