I was already growling in my head when I walked down to the basement to get on the hamster wheel (elliptical for you non fitness freak folks). Then, I saw the three plastic cups on the table by the couch. I had asked my son to bring up all glasses, as he has a tendency to just leave beverage containers on end tables like they will grow legs and walk to the kitchen. He had told me he didn’t have any glasses downstairs. Well, I guess he wasn’t lying, as these were PLASTIC cups. I instantly wanted to pinch him. I thought about picking up my phone and sending him a scathing text about this very serious cup issue, but instead, I got on the wheel, covered my ears with noise reducing headphones, and blasted Wherever I May Roam by Metallica. And this is why my son should send a thank you card to Lars and the fellas.
I spent the first five minutes on the wheel imagining the great satisfaction I would get from yelling at my son through clenched teeth, “You’re not going to pop a tendon by carrying three plastic cups up 6 steps! You’re going to have rats in your apartment when you move out!!” Then, I visualized pinching him so hard that he would look like the survivor of some medieval pox virus, not chicken pox, something bigger, maybe like vulture pox.
Don’t worry, other moms and social workers; he’s 17. It’s not like I’m fantasy pinching a little kid. Though, with my death eater mood, I wouldn’t put it past myself. Plus, I didn’t actually pinch anyone. Metallica saved them.
Of course Sophie, the big, annoying Great Dane/Lab, annoyed the crap out of me today, as usual, just by constantly needing attention and something to chew on. It’s like she just quit smoking or something. If she understood English, I would pinch her cheek and yell, “Sophie if you make one more mess I’m going to turn you into a really big rump roast!”
Then, just to make my day super groovy, Lola the Maltese decided to make the laundry room floor look like a chocolate chip cookie. No, she didn’t do this with finger paint or actual chocolate. She pooped, in tiny droplets, all over the floor. She even managed to get a splatter against the dryer. She had a new, clean potty pad in there, as Lola is not a go outside to go potty kind of dog. She opted to decorate the floor instead. I wanted to pinch her butt closed. For real. No, I didn’t actually do this. I just muttered about how people in certain countries eat dogs as I removed her artwork and threw my slippers, a casualty of the landmined floor, in the washer.
Animal-rights activist friends, please do not be alarmed. I’m not actually going to harm any animals, even the moose dog and tiny turd cutter. First of all, Sophie is far too aware of my dark aura to get within 6 feet of me when I am in a pinch mood. She picks up on my Exorcist like mood swings before I even snarl “Go get a toy!” at her. She goes to her crate and gives me the worried look before I say anything. If you want to learn more about why Sophie annoys the very humanness out of me, read this or this. And Lola can hide under beds. So, she is safe, too. And Lola is feeling much better now that she got all of those “chips” out of her system. The cats are simply perfect and do not get on my nerves. Because of this, they are safe from pinching.
For everyone’s continued safety, I will make a daily habit of blasting old school metal into my ears and pedaling as fast as my Dublin stubs will allow. When I run out of Metallica, I will keep on going with Guns and Roses, and maybe a “new” band like Godsmack. Some people drink; some take prescribed psychiatric medication; some do both. I pedal and sing. That’s right; I sing, too. I forgot to mention that. Perhaps, that is punishment enough for my family.