why have i not heard about monkey prostitutes before now?

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i’m afraid i’m becoming one of those angry, bitter women. you know, the ones who have a scowl permenantly fashioned on their faces? they constantly look like they’ve just swallowed something sour. well, my brow is furrowed as we speak.

i don’t know what happened. one minute i was excited to come to the beach (which we haven’t even SEEN yet) and the next…well, let’s just say i feel like murdering someone.

i think i’m tired. i’m spoiled and i’m tired. at home, patricia is there to help out during the day–there are 4 of them you know and 3 of them are smarter than me (and the only reason the 4th one isn’t smarter than me is because he picks up old food off the floor and eats it, and i haven’t done that in like 2 weeks) but here it’s just me against them and i’ve spent the entire week so far running around like a crazy person meeting their every whim. one of them farts and i jump up and yell, “what do you need? what can i get you?”

it’s exhausting. tommy has watched all of this from a very comfortable chair in the living room and keeps saying, “why are you doing this? they’ve got you trained. you’re like a monkey on the street corner. blah, blah, blah.”

ok first off, i’ve NEVER seen a monkey on the street corner so i have no idea what he’s talking about. monkey prostitutes?

anyway, i think it all started on the drive down. we didn’t leave until noon on sunday and our original plan was to drive until we got tired and then drive the rest monday morning. but because i was making such good time (yes, i was driving. i have to drive because tommy’s driving drives me nuts to the point where i’m grabbing the steering wheel and pressing his leg down on the accelerator–it’s better for our marriage if i do the driving) so i let the family know we wouldn’t be stopping. they didn’t care. they were all nestled in the back watching movies. i whipped into a convenience store and bought one of those tall full throttle energy drinks. that shit works. i STILL haven’t been to sleep and it’s wednesday.

and therein lies the problem. i’m tired. AND also…i cut my finger on a starburst candy wrapper and it’s finger i use to pick my nose…so that has me all bummed out too. have you tried to pick your nose with a finger that’s NOT your nose picking one? suddenly it’s like you’re retarded or something. so i just gave up.

seriously, i cut my index finger on a candy wrapper. who does that? i don’t even eat starbursts. ok, that’s a lie. i totally eat starbursts–except the red ones. the red ones are gross. my favorite is pink. pink starbursts are the bomb. anyway, i wasn’t opening a starburst for me this time–it was for one of my ungrateful, slave driver children and i cut my finger.

the good news is ethan’s better. i’m sleeping with him just in case. and that’s awesome. he digs his little ninja feet in my back and scratches me with his razor sharp baby toenails. i’m afraid to look at my back for fear i might find open wounds. i don’t have time to go to the doctor and get stitches–someone might need their ass wiped or a yogurt opened or another bowl of cereal–what would they do if i wasn’t here to do it for them–if i was off, i don’t know, seeking medical attention?

tommy informed me when we got here that he’d have to work some. so he’s been disappearing in the morning and coming back in the afternoon. lucky bastard. i’m not really sure about the whole “work” story though. so far he’s emailed me 2 videos from youtube and made comments on facebook. how much does this type of “work” pay? sign me the fuck up.

last night around 9 i turned in. a minute later tommy came in the bedroom and asked, “want to watch a movie?”

i looked at the clock again. maybe i’d read it wrong. maybe it was earlier.

nope.

“it’s 9:15,” i said.

“yeah, so?” he went to put the movie in the dvd player.

“at NIGHT,” i answered back, annoyed.

“i know,” he said.

and then neither of us said a word. he stood there looking at me and i lay in bed, wishing his head might explode into a million little pieces, right before my eyes.

and then, “fine. i’ll go sleep in the bunk bed with ethan.”

“ok, goodnight,” he said. “i love you. i hope you get some sleep.”

and then i flipped him off (behind his back of course) as i headed down the hallway to the kids’ room.

here’s an observation: bunk beds…not so comfy.

i got up in the night and moved to riley’s room and slept with her. and of course, i brought ethan with me. sleeping without little ninja feet in my back just wouldn’t be the same.

oh, here’s a bonus bit of information. tommy told me last night that he’s having the best time.

i’m so glad.