The Grumpy Blogger

"Oh, December," you say, your sweet brow wrinkled with concern. "Why are you grumpy?"

"Because," I say. "Because my husband decided to come home sick from work today."

"But that should be a good thing! You like it when your husband is home."

"Not when he flops around on the couch all day, thus making it impossible for me to work."


Yes. Like Sierra, my workspace is the living room couch and my laptop. So when certain inconsiderate husbands, who've been told that I have a lot of work to do today, decide to spend the day watching Star Wars on the couch with every pillow in the house piled up around them, it makes me grumpy.

(I love Star Wars--except he insists on watching Revenge of the Sith, which, I just don't like any of those new ones. But the big problem is that with him watching that, out little Faery doesn't have her Playhouse Disney to distract her, so guess who gets to play with her for hours? Yep. Me. So not only am I not working, I'm having little toddler feet shoved in my face while she giggles. For hours. Yay.)

We also have a desktop upstairs, bought back when the faery poured juice in the laptop last fall. But for some reason my internet access won't work up there--his does, mine doesn't, clicking on the icon does nothing, I can't explain it--and more importantly, his stuff is all over that desk. The desk and desktop were bought for me, but it wasn't long before my lovely clean expanse of desk was covered with action figures and CDs and various other man detritus.

He's upstairs taking a nap now--finally!!!--but I have to go pick up Princess from a friend's house so don't have time to stay and whine more. I'm sure you're very disappointed.