On The Roof

I’m trying to keep my sense of humor today. And yet moment-to-moment, I’m finding the bullshit keeps raining down.

I am officially, on the roof. On the roof is a euphemism for having one’s menstrual period, according to Allan. But since Allan doesn’t have a period, I’m not sure what made him know that except he’s clearly the brains. (See Jake’s morning thoughts)

We have since taken the image to the extreme. No longer is it about having your period, it's about being a bitch. A major bitch. An angry, major bitch. You get the idea.

Are you so on the roof I need to send a cocktail up there?

I’m taking up residence on the roof.

I have been on the roof so long I cannot remember how to get down!

Let’s just have a party on the roof.

Today was one of those days.

I had my sister in law tell me not to be a hurt child.

Okay.

A friend of my mother’s has told me she really really really is sick but she’s a good candidate for surgery.

Huh?

Really sick.

Okay.

I miss my job. I could be at my desk, overwhelmed and being paid. Now I’m at my desk, overwhelmed and not being paid.

Great.

I instant messaged up an incredibly negative and pushy storm last night with a poor friend who happened to be online.

Whoa, Nelly. Block that bitch from my list, I’m guessing she thought to herself. Yup, feeling a little insecure about that.

I was late for couple’s therapy, which meant having to spend most of the session assuring everyone I was not being passive aggressive. Walter was because he was late to watch the kids that caused a cascading effect of lateness.

I’m taking everything way too seriously right now.

I’m on the roof. Send me a cocktail. Send me some chocolate. But if you come up here, be warned. It’s been one of those days.