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i hate you
by mg at 04:00 PM on January 08, 2001
I hate my life right now.
It could just be that it is Monday, cold, there is a layer of black, slushy snow over the entire city, my girlfriend is 1000 miles aways, and I've spent about 50 of the last 80 hours at work.
Because my weekend was spent here, working, I haven't had a chance to do laundry, which means I'm had to wear my ugly underwear today.
You know, everybody has a pair or two of ugly underwear. The boxers with the really awful pattern. The giant pair of grandma panties (god, that is such a fun word - panties panties panties). The tighty-wighties with the skid marks.
I'm wearing a a pair of boxers now with some god-awful pattern. I looks like I'm wearing a trapper-keeper on my crotch.
I'm also down to the bottom of my sock drawer. Today I'm wearing a pair of mis-matched socks. And one has a big hole in the heel area. With the other, my big toe is sticking out. I hope I don't get hit by a car today, my mother would be so disapointed to know I died with dirty socks and underwear.
I also haven't been able to go grocery shopping in two weeks. When I open my refrigerator door, tumbleweed floats by. There are spider webs in my cabinets and a think layer of dust on that one tin can with the torn of label that I've had for my last three moves, which I'll never open because I don't know what is inside and I'll never throw out because there is food in there, and you never know when you might need food.
I haven't been able to do dishes in more than a week either. I think there is a family of possums living in my kitchen sink.
I'll write again when I can pull my head out of my as-ignment here at work.
comments (1)
I can sympathize, at least with the dirty socks, anyway. I hardly ever have to restort to wearing the awful, ugly underwear reserved for emergencies. I seem to have no problem keeping fresh underwear in my drawer. But, I'll admit that unless I'm having to clean up for a date, the state of my socks is just plain disgusting. I'm a bachelor, so I chalk it up to econimcal single living and wanting to save time and money on doing laundry. Socks can wait. I give them the old sniff test and throw them back on again. As long as I don't pass out from the smell, I figure they haven't gotten enough mileage yet. Who's going to complain? Unless there's woman around to keep me in line, I'm an undomesticated brute. Sure, I can pretend to be offended by such things for the sake of a girlfriend, but I really don't care if my socks smell. Like the article above suggests, if I ever end up at the hospital or morgue, they are not going to be too happy with the smell of my dirty socks. Sorry mom, I know you tried to raise me better than that. Rex
by rex_jedson@yahoo.com at August 18, 2005 8:24 PM