8

Bitchin-R-Us...

My GOD were my children loud today. I should have worn earplugs, I would have been a much calmer mother. Between Gigi's screams of fatigue/hunger at 5pm (think about the loudest smoke alarm you've ever heard), and Chebbles' encounter with an unfriendly bee, plus some bathtub shouting, I am pretty sure I've gone deaf. So I guess the problem is solved forever.

We had the carpets shampooed today too. It's an organic cleaning service, and the guy was nice enough to work on the crayon stain in the car as well. The most expensive part of his service was the $90 I paid him to clean our (idiotically purchased pre-children) beige couch. Just hours after the man left, Gigi jumped out of the bathtub, ran to the sofa, crawled up onto it and pooped right in the middle. A big, stainy POOP.

Finally, my nutty neighbor has gotten obsessed with the notion that I'm not feeding my cats, and has been calling me THREE TIMES A DAY about this. In fact, I AM feeding my cats, plenty of "holistic" cat food, dry and wet. But they enjoy hanging out on her porch like the gang from "West Side Story," seeing if they can scam some dessert from her. If she would only STOP FEEDING THEM, they would go away forever, but she is convinced that she is the only thing between these chubby felines and imminent starvation.

So I never answer the phone when it says "Private Number" because it's always her, trying to complain to me about my shameful neglect. And she never leaves a message. But she keeps... calling... all... the... time. The first time that the phone wakes up Leafy, I'm going to pop a blood vessel about this. But for now, it's still vaguely amusing.

And Braxton-Hicks. Enough. Enough already.