So...and not to deter anyone who is 32 from celebrating their next birthday, but...So far, 33 sucks. It sucks butt. It sucks butt a lot.
As we all know, I spent my entire birthday afternoon wet-vaccing the basement which of COURSE flooded with the torrential storms we had on Sunday/Monday. Of COURSE it did. Whereas when I first moved in here, 6 years ago, we'd get some seepage, like a bit of a damp floor, a day after a storm, NO, now I contemplate just getting some koi and making the basement a water garden retreat.
So Tuesday night out (my birthday) was a whole mess of fun. BUT then there was Wednesday morning, which wasn't the hangover I anticipated, but the fact that Char didn't want to play hooky from school and, in fact, got up with my mom at 4am, FREAKING HER SHIT OUT because I didn't come pick her up that evening (Yeah, Michael and I were tanked) and that she HAS to go to school in the morning and so on. So at 8:10am my mamasan calls me to let me know, so I have to drive the typically-20-minute-drive to my aunt's house (where the girls stayed), get Char dressed for school, hair brushed, etc., get the girls in the car, and then haul ASS to get her to school on time. And then go home to continue wet-vaccing the effing basement which of course has another inch of standing water that seeped on through. So Wednesday blew a little bit.
Yesterday was Char's actual birthday, which was anticlimatic because, you know, we had her party on Saturday so we just hung at my aunt's house for a spell and I was barraged with a ton of topics that I don't want/need/care to deal with at this stage, because I have FINALLY hit the point in my life where I have FINALLY managed to disengage from caring about 90% of my family's crises and drama because, you know what? I try to lead a DRAMA-FREE life, and it is a bit of work, but not that difficult. Come on people. Plus whenever I see this group and get the weirdness, it rubs off on me and I stew about it for days - what can I do to help? Are they nuts or am I just a bitch? why are they doing this to themselves, their families, etc.??? So it was nice to come home and stew at that last night. Oh, and while running laundry, the drain in the laundry sink was sloooowwwww. Remember that part for a couple paragraphs. It'll come into play.
Now, today was about day 4 of me being completely unable to get anything done around the house. Well, day 3, I guess. Tuesday/Wednesday - wet-vaccing. Thursday - Char's birthday. Today - running around with the girls all morning and putzing around with them a bit this afternoon. So throughout all this, our house, typically borderline squallorish, has mutated into white trash frat house chic...without the chic.
Tonight...Sigh. Tonight. Mike is out with some friends. Cool. I decide to clean the house and run some laundry so we all have green apparel for the St. Patrick's Day parade in Elmhurst tomorrow. I go downstairs, take the load out of the dryer, put it in a basket. Lift the lid to the washer. The new washer. Like 2 month old washer. Oh, look, the laundry drum is still FILLED WITH FUCKING WATER, despite the whole cycle, including rinse and spin being done. You know, I just flick it back to rinse & spin and let it go at that. The laundry sink has a little water still in it. Hmm, not too good. I start plunging. What's that? Yeah, there sure are cracks in the plunger! Rendering it A) less effective and B) a second fountain in the basement to spew disgusting water on me (first being the wet-vac on Tuesday). So I bundle the girls into the car, at about 7:25 or so (Um, bedtime is 7:30) and off we go to Menards. Did I mention they hadn't eaten yet?
Come back from Menards, set them up in pjs with some Wendy's (and I ate a jr. bacon cheeseburger. Maybe it is the meat on a lenten Friday that is causing my bad luck? Whatever, take THAT Catholic Church!) and a WonderPets, and headed back downstairs with my plunger and new snake. OH! Also, the kitchen sink, while doing dishes earlier, filled with water and wouldn't drain. OH, and I had to go outside and get the drill for the new snake. But by the time we returned, it was all totally drained. Whatever. Screw you kitchen sink, and the horse you rode in on. OH, and Ellie pooped on the way to Menards. I had no spare diaper and no time to remedy that, and so I had the poo smelling baby at Menards. Past bedtime. CLASSY.
Anyway, go downstairs, try plunging the laundry sinks. No! Why would that work? What's really cool, is that now the water has overflowed completely from the washtubs and the floor is soaked. AGAIN. Seriously? Seriously? So I whip out the snake, the big boy, and feed it in (mind you, whole sink is filled with water. I should not attempt these things without Michael around. Smart, independent, capable girl stuff aside, there are things that I call "Boy Jobs" and this is now one of them) through the cold cold water that is up to my elbows. I operate the drill a bit...feed it in...spin a bit..feed it in...STUCK.
On what, you ask?
Oh it came up the other washtub. And is stuck on the little cross bars on the drain. Isn't that drole? No really? Isn't it just lovely? And it is hooked on there pretty nice, too. This is actually when I came upstairs and ate the Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger, put the girls to bed, and decided to go online instead of be productive because, apparently, even when I try to be productive, 33-year-old Amy massively effs it up.
AARGH.
Mind you, this is just me venting. Totally just venting. And in all likelihood, I will delete this post within a few moments realizing that no one wants to read this loooooong whiney tale unless they already hate me and like to see me wallowing in misery.
I swear I'm going to go give it another try. Right after I finish watching last night's Sober House.
UPDATE: OH, and all I wanted to do tonight was put up some new window treatments that I picked up at Target, for the front room. I now feel like Dante from Clerks with his whiny "I wasn't even supposed to be here today!"
UPDATE, 10:45pm: Michael is home, and managed to get the snake spring off of the drain cross bar. However, we're still left with two very full laundry tubs (did I mention how very very cold the water is?) and a pile of laundry that, in addition to being dirty, is also now wet from the water that leaked on the floor. Translation: Even if I could put the laundry off, it isn't like I could recycle any of the jeans I wore this week. They are all grossly soaked. He's now fiddling downstairs to get the washer to drain, once again, into the free standing creepy toilet.