I cannot stop with the fucking Diet Mountain Dew. It's like an embarrassing old boyfriend or something, you know, spend a little time apart, get to remembering the good stuff and wanting a taste again, and then you pound one and twenty minutes later you're sitting in a minivan taking deep breaths through your mouth and trying not to lacquer your steering wheel in electric yellow glop. And someone asks if you're okay and all you can say is "...hlk."
Just like that.
So I've had people -- contractor, plumber, electrician, a handful of police officers who probably did NOT need to come in with guns unholstered -- in my house for about two weeks now. The upshot of this Parade of Men is that we will soon have an awesome new bathroom two feet from my side of the bed, bonus points for being the only room in the house I'd trust not to collapse in a stiff breeze, so as in the case of late pregnancy it will ALL BE WORTH IT IN THE END when I can enjoy my morning alone time with the newspaper and no children dangling in the doorway whining about hooooow looooong is it gonna beeeee when they could very well go to the perfectly operational toilet upstairs but in the meantime I am having to parent in front of other people all day and shower just one paltry layer of drywall away from strangers and not that this changes anything, my slack-ass Blue's Clues-allowing ways and creative swearing, but I do feel weird having to elbow men out of the way just to dig my underpants out of the drawer.
There's no way to hide what you're doing there. Hey, fellas, don't mind me. What do you think today, purple? The purple ones? With this bra? Okay. High five.
It's harshing my mellow, is what I'm saying. I don't know if a man who spends his days elbow-deep in sewage has the wherewithal to notice the Costco-size bottle of lube nobody ever remembers to put away or judge my habit of just leaving the play-doh on the floor until it's dry enough to sweep up, but I'm thinking about it. Not hard enough to pick up the play-doh ahead of schedule, of course. You don't fuck with a successful routine.