I have a theory. Every year around my birthday, I can always tell what kind of day I am going to have about 2 days in advance. If something bad happens Valentine's Day, then something will happen to make my birthday crappy. And two days after that will also be a bad day. The opposite is also true. For exmple, the year I turned 17, Valentine's day I got sick. My birthday my boyfriend broke up with me. Two days later my cat that I had had since I was 6 died. This year is further proof of my theory.
This is how my weekend went:
Friday: birthday party at the bowling alley for my cousin, my cousin's husband, and myself. Only, I can't bowl because my wrist is still hurting. Go firgure!
Sat: Hellish annual women's luncheon with my father's family.Seiously, who in their right mind plans something like that on Valentine's Day?! But not going seems to cause more issues than going does, so I just grin and bear it. Being around those people always gives me a headache and put me in a bad mood. There are a few I like, a few that are tolerable, but the rest I silently conteplate the numerous ways to torture them as I smile and nod at whatever they say. They are a bunch of two-faced, back-stabbing, manipulative b****s that I am more often than not ashamed to claim relation to. Then I go to wiegh in for my weight loss challenge. I gained two pounds. Not that I was surprised. Hello! I just came from a luncheon! Then it was home to my husband and children. He was, of course, cranky because the kids (here's a shocker!) wouldn't listen to him! We weren't originally planning to go out that night. We agreed that trying to go out on Valentine's was pointless. But we had both had such crappy days, I didn't feel like cooking, he just wanted to get out, so out we went, kids in tow because it is near imposible to get a babysitter on Valentine's Day. Dinner was a nightmare! 45 minute wait, three restless kids, packed resturant, cranky husband....you do the math!
Sunday: My puppy, Scrappy Doo, died in my arms. The vet sent him home far earlier than he should have and told me he would be fine. He obviously didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Scrappy was my buddy. He went everywhere I went, slept next to me when my husband was at work, and was good with the kids as long as they weren't mean to him. He was like another one of my kids. Trying to explain the concept of dying and going to heaven to a three year old is not an easy task. I think Cadin cried as much as I did.
Monday: My birthday. I spent the entire day cleaning and sanitizing the house to get rid of the virus that killed Scrappy while Joe went to the gym then out to my mom's to bury Scrappy. As if the wasn't bad enough, I then find out that someone who is supposed to be my friend was talking crap about me in my own house! To my best friend! Who does that?
So what is going to happen tomorrow? I'm almost scared to find out! Perhaps I will just stay in bed with the covers over my head all day.
