Reason #1. Sweating.
Reason #2. Bathing suits.
Reason #3. Shorts.
Reason #4. Pale, white skin that doesn’t tan. That only burns red and then doesn’t even turn into a tan, just goes right back to being white once it heals.
Reason #5 (and this is a big one). Hornets. I am deathly afraid of hornets. I don’t even really remember if I’ve ever been bitten by one in real life. I just remember from as far back as I can remember that I have been terrified of them. I used to have nightmares about gigantic human-sized hornets at the screen door, trying to get in at me.
These are other reasons why I hate summer.
Completely superficial desires.
But hey, I’m not a complete sourpuss. There are moments – like taking my boys to the beach and staying in a cabin nearby and playing in the sand and water.
But really, aside from that ONE experience, I’m not thrilled about the sun and the heat and the sweating. In fact, I hate it. And I think I’m the only one in the whole world who feels this way. Join me in my stinky, sweaty rage against hot weather.
“I’m trying to close on a house.”
“Ooooh! That sounds exciting!” says uninformed co-worker.
…Sure. I guess that’s one way to describe it.
If you’ve never had kids, you don’t know one damn thing about raising kids. That’s the truth, plain and simple. And if you’ve never bought a house before, then you really don’t know. I’m telling you, you don’t know.
Or maybe it’s just us. Reassure me that it is not, if it is not. Because I’m straight up losing my mind right now.
Last night, we were moments away from putting in the offer, and the realtor calls and says, “Highest and Best Offers” by 2 pm tomorrow. I call Dad up to tell him that news, and he gets mad and calls the realtor to yell at him (which he had promised me he would not do.)
So pretty much, everything is falling apart. After spending 4-5 hours per day working on this house deal for the past week, neglecting my kids the whole time while pacing the house with a cell phone stuck to my face, all of it is going to boil down to a fizzle. We’re not going to be able to draft a purchase agreement, we’re not going to be able to put in a bid, all of it will be for naught, and my husband and I will once again be back where we started. Yet again.
This happened once before already in mid-November of last year.
The positive take on this is that by the time we actually get a home, it will have been such a battle that we will appreciate it all that much more, having struggled so hard to get there.
The negative take on this is I-can’t-do-this-again-get-the-heck-away-from-me-nobody-even-look-at-me-HEY-are-you-looking-at-me-it-looks-like-you’re-looking-at-me-leave-me-ALONE.
Maybe it’s just because it’s Monday.
I’m fuming. I shouldn’t release all this on a WordPress blog. This isn’t the place for it. I should call my favorite girl and vent like there’s no tomorrow. But instead, I’m going to write all of this:
Me: Come downstairs, it’s time to eat.
Baby comes downstairs obediently. Husband follows.Husband: What? You didn’t make me anything?!
Me (Incredulous): I didn’t know you wanted anything!
Husband: You never make me anything to –
Me: Are you serious?! I didn’t know you wanted anything! Every time I do make something for you, you say you’re not hungry or you don’t feel like eating or you’ll eat later. How am I supposed to know you are hungry?! I thought you were sleeping!
Me: I swear, honey! I don’t believe this.
Me: Are you serious right now? Are you just messing with me?
Husband: No, I’m not messing with you, I’m serious. Every time – just forget it.
Me: Oh my God.
Sit back down at table. Stare at unappetizing food on plate. Put fork back down and leave the table, leave the kitchen, leave the house. Puff on cigarette in anger.
I don’t believe it. That was ridiculous. How many times have I made food just to have him say thanks, but no thanks to it? How many times have I prepared him food when he came home from work after fighting the kids off all night? I even asked him today to go get us meat so we could eat dinner together tonight, and he didn’t buy anything.
Besides, he was upstairs watching The Walking Dead with the door locked. Then he comes down after an hour and a half and expects there to be food on the table for him, hot and ready?! I don’t get this man. I seriously don’t.
Okay, so that was a 2 cigarettes ago – now what? What do I do now? Go back in with my tail between my legs, suck it up because marriage is all about compromise and forgiveness? Where do all these ridiculous expectations come from? I can’t read your mind. You never commit to meals with us, so how am I supposed to know you cared so much to join us?
I feel hurt, all over a stupid meal…and it’s only Monday.