What Wrong Side?

That whole “wrong side of the bed” saying is catchy… I mean, really, it seems like a feasible explanation for being cranky and such. Sometimes I wonder if there’s an equally efficient description for the feeling that one went to sleep and woke up the next morning in a twilight zone. I’m sure there has to be. I mean, I know that I am not the only one who has decided halfway through the day that it would be a good idea to go back home, get back in bed and try the whole waking up thing again—hoping, nay praying for a different experience.

Nothing life shattering, earth shaking or absolutely tremendous happened today, I just figure that maybe everyone else woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, thus sending me into the twilight zone. As if residing in Southern Georgia is not odd enough—I already feel like I’m in another country, I awoke to a whole new set of different weirdness.

I’m currently looking for a new place to live, (not part of my complaining for the most part today), I’ll keep this explanation to a minimum… You ready? My landlord is an idiot and got swept up in that whole let’s buy fifty houses phase about two years ago and now he’s stuck. The best part is his fabulous solution: “I can’t charge my current tenants any more for rent because I’ve already royally screwed them over, so I’m going to kick them out and see if I can rent my dilapidated house out for three times what it’s worth.” Uh, yeah, more power to you Andy, good luck with that one. Bitter? Me? Nah, I have a month before my due date to find a new house, I’m all good, pffft.

So, house hunting for the past four days? Not so great when seven dogs are relying on a good find, I think it’s time to buy. I’ve resigned to the fact that things are not going to be easy for the next three months, so once again, this particular fact did not contribute to my feelings of being off upon awakening on this beautiful Tuesday. Instead, I awoke twenty minutes before my alarm went off to some fantastic squealing based in the back yard. Halea (the Pit), and Karma (the Rott) were having themselves a little squabble and being rather loud in the process, Chance, (the Dobie) was sounding his war cry (he’s still a little too young to do much else quite yet). I figured twenty minutes wasn’t so bad, so I dragged myself out of bed and proceeded to doll myself up (I expected a long day, so I figured I might as well look decent for it).

Upon my morning trek through the house, I happened to glance at the front door. A realization dawned on me, the key to the house was in John’s car, and John’s car was with John in Moultrie doing police stuff. This wouldn’t have been so bad if I could have opened the front door and just left it unlocked, no, I have a deadbolt key lock on both sides of the door, so using the front door to exit was out.

I sat down in the Captains Chair (A gift from my father to John, which I have since inhabited and reclaimed as my very own), with my cup of microwaved coffee, bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats and flipped on the “News.” Yeah, I’m not even going to begin to rant about the TV and that whole set of ridiculousness. I won my morning Online Spades Game and began scheming for the coming day… Planning my exits and entrances to the house which would now involve scaling a chain link fence into and out of the back yard, all while wearing absolutely adorable white sandals, a cute little sundress and freshly manicured nails. Again, not so bad—Factor in the being six months pregnant and the Great Dane who insisted on helping me over the fence every time by standing on his hind legs, looking me in the eye and blocking my path.

I can’t blame the dogs for being a little ornery, they didn’t get fed at normal feeding time today, we ran out of kibble last night, and second on my list of things to do today (after work of course) was hit up the Good ‘Ol Tractor Supply and replace my dwindled Eukanuba Supply. With seven hungry pairs of eyes tracking my progress, I made it out to the car to begin my day… The phone rang… My medical insurance won’t come in for another three months. Uh, uh, uh, panic! I lost it. It was just too much for me to handle today.

I called work, told my boss I needed to take a personal day, and focused my attention on not losing my mind—I should have stuck with a more reasonable task. My phone rang three more times, my boss asking me if I was sure that I couldn’t come into work, and if maybe I could just take a personal half day, and then finally, that he thought maybe it would be better if I came into work after all, I mean, how bad can it really be? Really bad dammit!

Off to find alternate means of health care…. Back to the house, back over the fence, back to staring at Ethiopian starving dogs, and hearing grumblings as they wasted away in the back yard from mal-nourishment (I was three hours late in feeding them at this point). On the computer and the phone for some insight… Yeah, I found out there’s no insight to be had, I’m kind of screwed. One choice for me, head down to DFCS and see if I qualify for some assistance until my insurance comes back in to play. So, pretty shoes, cute sundress, and primped hair headed back over the fence and to the bad part of town, you know the part where all the government buildings are? Not a place for a dolled up white girl to go all by her lonesome.

I had an altercation right outside the front door of said building with two hicks whose idea of a come one line was: “Damn, you sho’ is perty, you married?” To which I responding by waggling my diamond adorned ring finger at them and proceeding towards the entrance… “Well how’s ‘bout just fo’ one night den?” I brought some bad Karma my way by responding with a very civil and oh so ladylike, “How’s ‘bout you and your buddy suck each other off so you can shut your mouth before anything worse comes out of it and you can leave me the hell alone.” Sigh, I couldn’t help myself.
Left the building, dark cloud and all, back to the house to research more options and to let the little dogs out to use the bathroom. Hauled my pregnant butt back over the fence and was greeted with groans of disapproval since it was obvious I had no kibble in hand. I reassured my withering pups that I would indeed be back, although I was unsure of how I would get the kibble into their bowls for John has made me solemnly swear to not lift the bag by myself… (I’m fragile and I guess that bags of dog kibble vary greatly from weights at the gym).

Anyway, off to register at school for my final semester, thank goodness. I pulled into the parking lot at 12:30 and walked in the bright sun (new sandals shining in the light), to where I was supposed to be, only to be informed that I would have to return at 3:00, registration was closed for a TWO AND A HALF HOUR LUNCH BREAK. Huh, imagine that.

Super mom to the rescue, the time had definitely come to be the provider and bring the forbidden fruit, er, unmovable kibble home. I pulled into Tractor Supply rearing to go (Just sounds right when you’re referring to a store called TRACTOR SUPPLY). Anyway, I grabbed a cart and figured that I would cheat a little, John would never know that I pulled the kibble off the shelf and put it into the cart—I had it all figured out—After I checked out I would just smile really big and get one of them good ‘ol cowboys to load my newly acquired bag of doggy sustenance into the back of my truck, er, SUV and be good to go.

Cart squealing around the corner and my heart brimming with excitement at the joys of doing something which turned out right and good on this odd day, I turned the fateful corner to the Aisle of Eukanuba. What is this? Where is my brand? How can this be happening? I stared, willing the empty spot on the shelves to fill with the only thing that would stop my dogs from despising me when I walked through the door, I mean, when I scaled the fence.
After the shock faded, I wheeled my cart to the front register, and with the sweetest smile I could conjure asked “Debbie” if there was perhaps any Eukanuba Adult Large Breed Active Kibble lying around in the back? She looked at me from her perch behind the counter and proceeded to shake her head in disgust. She muttered in my general direction that she simply could not understand some people. Unsure of where this line of conversation was coming from, I scrunched my eyebrows together, frowned and said, “Pardon?” She proceeded to voice her opinion about tattooed folks and how she could not understand such people. More bad Karma was heaped upon my plate…. “Uh, well, to be honest, I don’t understand where a fat, middle aged, toothless, unkempt woman working in the TRACTOR SUPPLY gets off telling me that she does not understand my tattoos. Furthermore, I’m six months PREGNANT, what’s your excuse for looking like you’re about to give birth? Take care of yourself and when you’ve got a perfect body then you can worry about what I’m doing with mine.”

My poor cart wheels screeching a protest I headed back to the desolate Eukanuba Aisle, loaded up Eukanuba Medium Breed Weight Control and proceeded back to “Debbie’s” register to check out. Huffing, she scanned my compromise and spat out my total which happened to be twice the amount it was supposed to be. I informed her that there was only one bag of dog food in my cart and that if it now cost $80.00 I was going to have an ungodly fit in the middle of the store, new sandals, sundress, primped hair and all. She decided that she must have made a mistake, and in fact my purchase totaled somewhere a little over $45.00. Yeah, I decided it was probably not in my best interest to wait for a good ‘ol cowboy to carry my prize to the SUV for me after all.

I faced the wrath of John when he got home from work and questioned me about my Eukanuba strong woman lifting, and I told him that I had in fact had no choice in the matter as to whether or not I would hoist said bag all on my lonesome. I solemnly explained the circumstances surrounded my miraculous lifting feat and John decided that perhaps I was justified just this once in risking it and taking it upon myself to load my own bag of incorrect dog food into the back of my car.

I informed him that if I was healthy enough to vault over the chain link fence in spectacular shoes and a pretty dress that I could probably handle a bag or two of dog food… We decided to leave well enough alone and I made my way out to his truck, retrieving my house key. Tomorrow will be better, I will not have to hoist my pretty self over any fences and I plan on waking up on the right side of the bed and hope that everyone else does as well.