Mommy Wants Vodka

…Or A Mail-Order Bride

A Plague On Both Your Houses.


Sudddenly, I’m very afraid.

What began as a bad birthday weekend is now shaping up to be a bad birthday week. Does anyone know how to rid yourself of a curse? Anyone perform exorcisms?

I still cannot see well. Things are almost completely blurry, which makes everyday living annoying if not entirely unbearable. Sound like I’m overreacting? Take the lens out of one of your glasses, or remove one contact and walk around for awhile: that’s how it feels. I spend several hours a day trying to remove long dark hairs out of Alex’s neck fat, diaper area, arm fat and hands (I heart you postpartum hair loss) not because the hairs are really that prolific (anymore), but because I can’t quite navigate exactly where the damn things are. And because of the complete loss of depth perception, I can’t drive myself to the doctor (or anywhere else, really).

On Tuesday, right before I was planning to go to bed early (foronceinmydamnlife), I heard the dog barking loudly outside. Because I cannot see (read: lazy) I sent Daver out to investigate, while I went to the sink to wash my hands. Then I smelled it. A combo of burning rubber and burning oil. Oh holy fuck. Shit.

The dog was tangling with a skunk.

Needless to say, I won’t bore you with the details about baking soda and H2O2 covering the kitchen, or how when the mixture reaches your skin in drop form your skin looks like you have vittaligo, or how truly awful fresh skunk goo smells.

Let’s just say that I didn’t go to bed early that night.

And the Vicodin, while awesome, leaves me an awesome, drooling, high as hell mess, which means that I cannot parent Alex. Dave = workaholic, who for obvious reasons, like our house is not the same as work is not here much. So I cannot take my precious pills. I wouldn’t mind being blind so much if I were high.

Ain’t that the truth.

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