Then does that make March just bitchy?
Hmmm...speaking of bitchy...
I've spent considerable time bitching on this blog, maybe it's time to take some serious stock...
* My house is buried under 2 tons of crap. It's to the point where I can't even fathom where to start.
* My desk at work is buried under two tons of crap. It's to the point where I don't even know where to start.
* The laundry monster has won the right to sleep next to the bed unhindered. It doesn't even mind when I step on it to get over the bathroom. It plays well with the baby--it's actually higher than the bed, so there's no chance that she'll roll off. And if she does, she can't tell.
* The mildew in the bathroom is developing a personality. I like it better than most of my 5th period class.
* We have no money and not much in the fridge. But lots and lots of chili and a diminishing sensitivity of smell.
* To that end,I told 6 kids in my AP class that I'd buy them pizza tomorrow, if they'd voluntarily come study for the test. They seem happier about the idea than the situation warrants.
* I want to live in the land of Eiran with my characters in BITTERMOON. Their lives are very simple. There's magic, hot men, and Bethen (the mother figure) gets to knit all the time. Who wouldn't want to be in Eiran?
* The older kids managed to clean the house...sort of. I mean, really, sort of... I mean really? How well can teenagers clean a house?
* The Cave Troll has a bump on his head, the baby has chocolate on her mouth and both of them are suffering from an insane attachment to their Big Red Car. On the plus side, they're both insufferably cute.
* The baby has started putting the Cave Troll's shark puppet on her hand and waving it about going "ROOOOOWWWWRRRRRR" which is what he does to her. Did I mention they're insufferable cute?
* My best friend is here, looking like hell, because her job is as frustrating, painful, and infuriating as mine. She's a nurse.
* The sockies for the dumbass kid are almost done. She's still clueless, grumpy, and I fear for what her life will be like when she gives birth. But she will have blue booties (because she complained bitterly when I was going to do purple) for the little boy without a daddy.
* The intarsia blanket has developed a big honkin' hole when I didn't do the intarsia twist.
Okay, that's it.
I see the pattern here, and I see what needs to be done.
Screw the house, we're putting take-out on a new credit card and as soon as the booties are on, I'm casting on a pair of fingerless mitts for myself.
Screw you, impending April, I'm taking my joie d'vive back!