Even little princesses sometimes get frustrated.
Yesterday was a busy day. I was on the blog floor at the crack of dawn nuking the punchline and writing all morning. I popped in and out of the kitchen so I could make the Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins. They turned out really yummy. :) Oh, and somewhere in there I did Zumba. Then I prepared lunch for the dwarves and cleaned the cottage. I visited the blog floor again to write another post and then it was off to the kitchen. The cookie jar was getting low, and I couldn't bear to see my dwarves disappointed. I mixed up a double batch of Oatmeal Chocolate Chip and then another batch of Peanut Butter Bacon. Yum. Then I started dinner. I knew how hungry and tired my sweet dwarves would be and I wanted to make them happy. It was really important to me that dinner was on the table when they walked in the door... and it would have been a cinch if it weren't for....UNNY.
Unny means well, I know, but throughout the day she kept interrupting me with "suggestions" for the blog. She kept complaining about how little time the dwarves spend on the blog floor and how much time they spend sleeping. The poor dears. She really works them to a frazzle. She loudly mentioned a dozen or so times that she thought I wasn't doing enough either. I promised to try harder and continued with my writing, cleaning and cooking. As I mixed the brownies for dessert, she walked in again. She was explaining her idea about unionizing dwarves...something about better working conditions and benefits? I was only half-listening as the stew was simmering and the vegetables were almost done. I needed to take the rolls out of the oven so I could bake the brownies. She began to rant about affirmative action and how we two females were doing a disproportionate amount of work for less pay. At this point she got really worked up and started waving her arms as she screamed. She knocked the pan of unbaked brownies from my hands and it flipped over, flinging sweet chocolatey goo all over the newly cleaned kitchen counters and floor. It spattered my rolls and got in the stew and vegetables. I was crestfallen. Now I would have to re-clean the kitchen and I wouldn't have dinner on time for the dwarves! As I filled the mop bucket, Unny continued to bellow that we women were being oppressed. As I mopped, her tone became more insistent...then she grabbed the mop, threw it down, and roared, "NONNY, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!?!?!?!?"
I have no excuse for what happened next.
Yes, I was a bit tired and irritated. Yes, I was feeling a little frustration.
But that is no excuse for me uttering the four-letter-word that I did.
(Be careful. The next part is a little NSFW)
A little fire began to rise in me....one that I never had felt before. I was indignant and tired and I still had so much to do...
It was though it was not me. It was as though I was standing near watching myself say it...
"UNNY???" I was seething. "You know what?????? YOU CAN GO TO KELN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Peanut Butter Bacon Cookies?? I didn't get any peanut butter bacon cookies..I asked around and nobody else knew anything about it. We did notice that Hunter wouldn't make eye contact with anyone...so.what's up with that?
ReplyDeleteWordy? Did you eat all the cookies, sweetheart? I'm glad you liked them.
DeleteNo problem. I'll make some more :)
That reminds me of a story that I'd heard in various forms, this one about 19th century novelist Helen Hunt Jackson, who, while still going by the name Hunt, is said to have once found a money purse in a church pew after the morning’s service. The preacher, when she informed him of it, advised her to hold on to it and that he’d announce it at the evening’s service. That night, he addressed the congregation to the effect that a money purse had been found in the church and that the owner can go to Helen Hunt for it.
ReplyDelete