grrr!

RIP Mr. Laptop?

Yes, even though I got the bloody thing just a little over a year ago, the AC/DC adapter has died on me and the geniuses at eMachines do not have a replacement available. This means that if the Best Buy 3 year service protection plan I bought can’t somehow take care of this, that my laptop will be done in about 45 minutes.

THIS REALLY SUCKS. 🙁

The thing cost me over $1500. 🙁 And I barely got over a year of usage out of it.

I’m going to take it to Best Buy and see what they say. I worry though, that I will have to go back to being laptop-less, or charge a new one. Lord knows I really don’t want to do that. 🙁

I didn’t want to go anywhere today–I’m sick as a dog and would rather just rest. But oh well, something always has to happen. Grrrr.

Maybe I’ll just go tomorrow.

(and seriously, if Aidan doesn’t stop whining… AKLFJDKJFKLDJFLDLK!)

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So frustrating…

I can’t seem to get on top of the damn cleaning. I clean and I pick up and I tidy only for the EXACT same mess to appear not even four hours later. What am I doing wrong? Why can’t Chris and Aidan pick up their messes when they’re done?

Okay, I understand that Aidan is a little guy and needs more coaching. I just saw the family room–the SAME room I picked up no fewer than three times in the past week. Blankets, toys, clothes, possible candy wrappers (I simply stopped looking by then) all over the floor. I’m about ready to pull my hair out.

I mean, the house is good-sized, so I usually only do one or two rooms at a time. The hardest for me to take care of are the master bedroom and the family room. The guest room is rarely used, so I don’t have to mess with that one as much. Aidan’s room–he likes to change clothes a million times a day, but it’s nothing to stuff clothing back into the drawers. But the paper and the toys and the blankets and CHRIS’s Dang Clothing and HOCKEY GEAR, ACK. Drives me insane. I see people’s homes and they always look so tidy. Lived in but not a fall down mess. So what am I doing wrong?? 🙁

The loft. I just tidied it up yesterday. It’s a pigsty AGAIN. Toys, papers, all over the floor. I’m feeling stretched thin and worn out and **really** cranky. I just got Aidan to bed–that took some work, let me tell you. He’s at that age where he is stalling in regards to anything–eating, sleeping, whatever. And… the child has begun talking back.

Me: Aidan, don’t write on your arm.
Aidan: I’m NOT!

Grrr.

On top of that, I’m out of chocolate chip cookie dough. That really makes me unhappy. I was really looking forward to two “cookies” tonight. (I get the ready bake cookies. Yummy).

Thank God for 3 Musketeers.

Signing off, devouring chocolate, reading Miss Snark and generally feeling like poop for making Aidan go to bed even though it’s totally justifiable because it’s nearly 1am.

**sigh**

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This Isn’t Fair

Why is it already 1am?

Long day of meetings–FOUR, to be exact, not to mention paperwork out the bootie and no money for lunch. Oh yeah, and I have to pay that speeding ticket.

Tuesday is already shaping up to be BAD–unless I load up on caffeine and/or Red Bull.

The weather forecast calls for rain.

Did I mention that I have FOUR meetings to attend?

(At least I have a new outfit to wear. I heart Aeropostale and their cheap, cheap, cute clothes).

I’m never going to finish a writing project. :( My dreams are too big, my time is too short and I really doubt my writing sometimes most of the time.

I should sleep. Then I’ll have enough energy for the downward spiral that is attacking me as I type.

*goes to crawl into a hole. takes laptop with her. because even as she starts to again despise the words she has written, she still can’t stop writing. she just can’t.*

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*Sigh*

Damned insomnia strikes again….

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Grrrr

I HATE DIAL-UP.

I guess I should be glad I have some form of internet.

Ugh. Wednesday sucks already.

– I am constipated (I’m sure you wanted to know that)
– It’s already 1:30am
– No Broadband
– Meetings all freakin’ day.
– THAT.

*sigh*

Oh well. I guess this is a sign for me to take my sorry self to bed, right? G’night.

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