Time for a Plan

Call me Snow White with all these creatures following me around!

Remember Mr. Tree? Cut it down and it grew back. I wrestled it into submission with a chain saw. Only have 17 cuts from it.

Listen fuckers, you're portrayed on HBO like you're monsters? Your days are numbered. Cause well, as much faith as I've lost in our American Experiment I still have faith in humanity.

Fuck.

Those.

Guys.

So the Big Boy and I were in a fender bender. We're fine. Airbags didn't even go off. Thank God I forgot to ever downgrade coverage on my car. $500 to fix it all. DONE!

What I do instead of working during meetings now. Someone said this in Discord and I immediately went to make images for stickers.

I have a book convention next week. It’s a dark romance convention specifically. It’s in New Orleans. There is a gala one night. It’s a big deal. Grown ass women dress up like it’s need prom and ain’t no one tryin to get laid. It’s peacocking for your friends without the hassle of matching vests to your dress. So my dress is Feyre’s under the mountain dress from A Court of Thorn and Roses (ACOTAR). I have a very specific image based on the description in the book but the amount of spray on adhesive and prayers it would take to make that happen is laughable. Instead I’m starting with this body suit base. I’m going to alter it and add a skirt. I’ll see some beads on the skirt (it’ll be chiffon) and some sparkly flats. It’s a very low bar approach to dress up. I already am covered in tattoos on one arm so that’s in keeping with the book.

As superficial as this sounds I’m 41. I spend my entire teen and adult laugh thinking my taller stature and “you don’t LOOK like your weight” was recipe for never being attractive. Then around the time I had the oldest I realized- fuck them! I created a whole ass person. This body is bangin!

I spent real money on wigs. My hair is so fragile thanks to being fine and curly that it can't withstand even a strong gaze. Thus bleaching it and dying it pink was a given.

It broke off. Not in expected areas either. Underneath! It's so stupid looking and my roots are gray. I'm lazy and fuck it. Wigs it is.

Today I woke up to leftover bougie wines from the Beard’s restaurant and a Christmas gift from a Discord pal.

Did I knock off work at 1 pm?

I absolutely did.

Do I feel bad?

Kinda.

But! I played with my kids, finished a book, played a few levels on PlayStation, read books with the ginger menace, bathed him, called both my brothers so they could tell the big boy stories about how land lines were on the wall when we were growing up and now I’m farting around the house with not much to do.

This.

Is.

He’s not asleep. He’s singing to his stuffed Bingo. Meanwhile the big boy is above us BITCHING HIS FACE OFF about the character development in his book. It’s “the most horrific, absolute worst book I’ve ever read”. Ok Alexander, tell me about your terrible day while you’re at it. His major complaint? “This guy is too nice!”

Guess who did just that. Even bright the box with signs attached. They refused it because it wasn’t unopened in the factory sealed packaging. Excuse me this return policy doesn’t mention it being my granma’s shrink wrapped sofa - only for looking not touching.

I wrote a very nice email. OK it was medium nice. It had pictures. Things were underlined. There was liberal use of italics. I might’ve email corporate, the store manger and raised hell via chat.

The store manager responded at midnight. I didn’t open it. I saw the opening line of “my sincerest apologies” and decided to wait until tomorrow. I worked 14 hours today. I hate everything. If I read that my cold medicine addled brain won’t be able to be chill about it if she tells me to eat rocks.

I just want my $887 dollars back. Maybe without raising my blood pressure?

Another delightful message from my mother. Is there an ICE presence in Atlanta? How the fuck do I know? I live north of Atlanta, have two small children, and work from home. If I make it more than a mile from my house it’s cause to celebrate.

She sends me texts like this when she KNOWS I don’t follow the news because it triggers my anxiety. I have to ask her NOT to send me news stories or talk to me about news stories at least once every 6 months. I’ve said this for 25 years. At least 50 times she’s heard this.

When I was an isolated homeschool child I was trapped in catastrophic thinking. She fueled it by telling me nothing but horrific things about the world, her life, her past and things she made up. If something negative happened she’d blame me and make it my fault. You know, psychological abuse, a classic case really.

So as an adult, I get enough news from Tumblr and friends. I am so incredibly careful about my feeds and what my friends send me I have not seen any videos from ICE or police brutality. I refuse to watch. It’s too traumatic. I can still email my representatives and make my voice known without exposing myself to something which will impact my composure that much.

I also work federal contracts. I see it from the inside. I don’t agree with it but I still see it.

The less contact I have with my mother the happier I am. I rarely speak to her. I pay for a lot of her bills. I won’t let my children have a relationship with her. She’s tried everything she can to get to them. My brother and sister won’t speak to her. My younger brother is trying to force a relationship by pushing me. Nope. No sir. Not today Satan shut that the fuck down.

However, I might go bald. Might snatch myself bald headed over this client. No matter how much I explain, say no, or insist on process they refuse to take believe me. They go to the CEO of the company we’ve partnered with to do their development. What happens then? CEO comes right back to me like “???”. Then I have to provide transcripts, screen shots and explanations for everything. He always backs me up but it’s exhausting. I’m his equal but this client thinks I’m “a developer”. Sir, I’m Chief Product Officer. I have a master’s degree and 10 years of experience. I’ve developed multiple software platforms from nothing. I’ve had successful exits for start ups. I’m not a front end developer who took an 8 week book camp course. Maybe just maybe I know what I’m doing?

Everything is an emergency. It’s funny but also not. My colleagues are taking bets on how long before I “calmly and professionally tell him to eat glass”. Hint? It’s not long now.

A happy little side quest as I’m working on a quilt from old sweat shirts. I had a 24 year old towel that was once sunshine yellow. It was bleached out white with holes. It was set aside for some project. I also had this HIDEOUS dress that was gifted to me. I liked the fabric of the dress but the design was awful.

In my procrastination from measuring and cutting pieces for the quilt it occurred to me that I have nothing which matches his shower curtain despite it being my favorite. So I pulled out the melon colored dress and got to work.

Welcome to this edition of great storm expectations. Not pictured- the generator. The boys have been wild and bored. The dog has just been bored. I woke up today doing the math of what will go back to my credit card after these returns.