BRUH…lemme set the tone for today’s episode of “Heather Can’t Have Nice Things.”
Made myself a fresh cup of my disgusting hot bean water.
Opened the back door.
Walked out to my comfy chair.
Sat down.
Took one deep, peaceful breath…
…and immediately smelled SHIT.
Now hold on.
It wasn’t human shit.
At least I don’t THINK it was.
It took me a solid minute of sniffing around like some kind of bloodhound before I found the crime scene.
Y’ALL…
SOMETHING POOPED ON MY TABLE.
Not on the deck.
Not in the yard.
Not by the flower pots.
ON.
MY.
TABLE.
The AUDACITY.
Who the hell climbs UP onto someone’s deck table just to take a dump?!
I can’t have nice things.
Ever.
Anywhere.
Mother Nature wakes up every morning and chooses violence specifically against me.
“Oh…Heather finally has a peaceful little coffee spot…”
“Shit on it.”
Rude.
Then I happened to look up…
WHO is brave enough to climb on my roof and knock down TWO giant wasp nests??
They’ve already been sprayed, so theoretically there shouldn’t be any spicy sky demons left in there…
…I hope.
But somebody still has to knock those big bastards down.
Should I be climbing on a roof with my shitty MS balance, numb legs, and the coordination of a newborn deer learning to ice skate?
ABSOLUTELY not.
Will that stop me if nobody else does it?
…stay tuned.
If they aren’t gone by tonight, I’ll post a schedule for anyone interested in watching me make terrible life choices. Bring lawn chairs. Maybe an EMT. Just in case.
NOW…
Let’s move on to something that ISN’T trying to kill me.
MY GARDEN!!
MY TOMATO PLANT IS ABSOLUTELY SHOWING OFF!!
That bitch is LOADED.
The tomatoes are HUGE.
They’re GREEN.
And let’s all quit pretending they’re ever gonna turn red.
Nope.
Those heifers were born to become fried green tomatoes and they don’t even know it yet.
I’ve also got SIX jalapeños getting bigger every day…
…and approximately 47 metric tons of mint.
So who’s coming over for fresh mint juleps??
And later this summer…
Homemade salsa.
I don’t make the rules.
The garden does.
Today’s main event, though…
The basement.
Me.
Three teenagers.
And enough cleaning supplies to qualify as a chemical weapon.
This whole “Mom doesn’t have a full-time job” thing is REALLY starting to piss my kids off.
Because now I have time.
Too much time.
And when I have time…
EVERYBODY has chores.
I’m broke…
So my entertainment is making my children clean things they’ve been strategically ignoring for six months.
There will absolutely be a dump run.
There will absolutely be free stuff.
And there will probably be food too because we’re cleaning out the deep freeze and if we aren’t gonna eat it before it expires…
One of you heathens might as well.
Meanwhile…
Lily has officially reached her limit with me.
This child has ALREADY bought all of her school supplies.
Her backpack is packed.
Ready to roll.
She informed me LAST WEEK…
“This summer has been buns cheeks so far. Might as well just go back to school now.”
—Lillian Rae
Imagine your mother becoming such a relentless pain in your ass that ALGEBRA starts sounding fun.
Couldn’t be me.
Actually…
It absolutely could.
AND FINALLY…
I worked a WHOLE seven-hour shift yesterday.
SEVEN HOURS.
Apparently that was enough to emotionally traumatize my dog.
Kashy has refused to acknowledge my existence all morning.
Won’t look at me.
Won’t cuddle me.
Won’t even fake being happy I’m home.
She’s treating me like I cheated on her.
Matthew Miller…
Buddy…
We’re gonna need you to become outrageously wealthy.
Because Kashy has made it crystal clear that my true calling in life is being a full-time stay-at-home dog mom.
And honestly…
I support her career goals for me.
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