i was attempting to open a plastic package the other day. i tugged at it, i pulled, i used my teeth, all to no avail. it quickly became clear to me that i was going to need scissors. so, i go the DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT, and to my shock, the scissors were not there. i was convinced that my mother had used them and failed to return them to the DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT. that's when the swearing started, and i wasn't being real quiet about it, either.
"goddamit! why can't she put the fucking scissors back in the fucking DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT when she is done with them? how fucking hard is that? is that too much to fucking ASK??!?!"
it continued in this vein as i tore thru the junk drawer, rifled the desk and searched the mail basket. at this point, the dogs looked at one another and i am fairly certain i heard one whisper to the other, "oh fuck. we got adopted a fucking nut job." (i really don't know where they picked up that kind of language. no more HBO for them!) then they ran outside, planning their escape, no doubt.
now, it might seem that i was overreacting given the situation. but you see, we have ISSUES in my house when it comes to putting things back where they belong. take the dairy products, for example. now *i* believe that once you have poured your milk, the milk carton should be returned to the fridge within 5 minutes. my mother, on the hand, does not subscribe to this belief system. she will leave the milk or butter on the counter for HOURS. as i actively try to avoid food poisoning whenever possible, this is a slight bone of contention between us.
the other day, i had a violent headache and my back was hurting. comfort food was obviously the only cure. so i decided to make some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. because really, is there anything more comforting than that package of magic cheese dust? i think not.
i get the butter out of the fridge. this is a tub of whipped butter. it should be so light and airy that you can scoop it out with a mere flick of the spoon. not in my house. this thing had been left out and re-refrigerated so many times that it was now as hard as granite. i had to use a knife to chisel out chunks of it. little butter bits were flying all over the kitchen. i FINALLY manage to excavate the 4 tablespoons worth that i needed. needless to say, i was cursing up a storm the whole time.
if you ever come to my house and my mom offers you milk and buttered toast, do yourself a favor and JUST SAY NO!
given our history with things not being put back into the proper place, i was convinced she had mislaid the scissors. i could not find them anywhere and resorted to using a screwdriver to shred the plastic. i was NOT happy, let me tell you.
later that night, i was getting ready for bed. what do i spy with my little eye? the scissors. in my bedroom. where i had left them the day before. and my dresser is not the DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT.
i'm a fucking moron. but, i'm still right about the dairy products. SO THERE!