My Latest First World Problem

I know, I'm pissing and moaning about something petty to people that are desperately trying to feed their families. I get it.  It still doesn't make my pool any warmer.

Recently, we had to move away from our awesome-floor-plan-party-pad-with-a-'70s-porn-shower* to a new place, to get away from the mold.

How do we know there was mold? Well, we almost did a $300 mold kit test.  But we are renters, and we knew the owners would not fix the problem.  I wouldn't either, because the heating ducts went through the concrete slab, and filled with water during heavy rains.  So much so, we could hear sloshing when the heat was on.  And the heat did not blow with a steady flow, more of a Jumanji-whah-whah-whah that scared the bejeesus out of Princess.  She's frighteningly easy to alarm.

So, we found a bigger, prettier, deckier, poolier, hot-tubbier place, on a quieter street.  We didn't think it was possible, but we did. 

But the pool leaked, and was scheduled for re-surfacing. (Along with all the other things wrong, which could take up several more blog posts...)

So the dudes came out, and Sky King had the opportunity to chat them up, in a my-psycho-wife-wants-this-shit-done-STAT kinda way.

They said it would take a day. This seemed a bit far-reaching, but what the hell do I know about pool resurfacing?

What they meant was, "it will take a day--which is 24 hours, spread over several months".

I should have clarified.  Right before I was going to call and make up some bullshit story about my atrophied knees and the need for the pool to be done, they showed up. Now it is filling with water, and we seem to be about a week away from Opening Day at the Walker Ranch Water Park.


I know, boo-fucking-hoo.  Be nice, or you can't come to Opening Day.

*What is a "porn shower", you ask?  It is a shower that is quite open, tiled, and happens to be missing a wall to the outside, having been replaced with a clear sliding glass door. Fortunately for our neighbors, there was a small private courtyard overgrown with bamboo surrounding this door.  Each shower was like a trip to the rain forest, minus the sweat and bugs. It took me about a month to get used to it.

In Which a Tantrum is Imminent

Today, you get to hear me rant about things like my life is actually rough.  Sorry you chose to seek me out today, but there's a few things putting bees in my bonnet, and here you are, so....deal.

These are my chief complaints today:

One of my meds-Doxycycline-makes me "sensitive" to the sun.  As an Irish/Danish/Finnish gal, I freckle excessively (think: chocolate chip cookie) and have always burned quickly.  I never had the patience to lay still long enough to earn a tan, so I am pretty much plucked-chicken white most of the year.  The ladies at work have asked that I slowly reintroduce them to my ankles, then calves, upward, because the shock is too great to go from pants to knee-length skirts overnight.  So, what I'm saying is, up til lately, things have been fine in the suntan-achievement department.

But now, I can't be in the sun at all.  Sunscreen doesn't seem to help: too much running errands and my raccoon eyes have made that abundantly clear. And to top it off, I live in Northern CA where winter lasted about a week, and doesn't seem to want to return.  Yes, I am bitching about beautiful, unseasonable early Spring when other people are schlepping through snow and enduring power outages.  I get that sounds bad.  But I'm still pissy.

The weather is not the biggest issue, though.  The issue is, I have to keep my skin covered.  Now, it's not that I'm some wild exhibitionist (and if I were, I would explain it on a totally different blog...).  The issue is, I get really hot in pants and long shirts.  So I had to reinvent my wardrobe.  And Maxi dresses are the order of the day, complete with flow-y over-shirt.  Add a wide-brimmed hat and Jackie O glasses, and I am at the height of fashion.  Except that I'm 5'3".  And not thin.  So, imagine a giant circus tent.  Then put my head on the top.  Gorgeous, no?

To top it all off (you should really get a tissue...) I have to go on vacation soon.  To a hot place.  I know, the utter injustice, right? 

So I have to wear a bunch of long flow-y skirts and maxi-dresses (not to be confused with Maxi-pads which don't protect you from the sun if you are using them right) and over-shirts, instead of cute tropical loveliness that is more flattering to my less-than-svelte figure.  And that makes me grumpy.  The only saving grace is that it is not yet daylight savings time, so I can get all gussies up in my usual slutty figure-hugging gear.

Oh, and footwear?  My feet have begun aching, so I can't seem to get away with Saltwater sandals.  And, my entirely-too-vast collection of Old Navy flip flops may not see the light of day for a while.  So now I need comfy, supportive, covering footwear.  To wear in the heat. Blech.

I sound like an Octogenarian: "Why kids these days go out without a hat is beyond me. And the skin!  Why does everyone have to show so much skin?  It leaves nothing to the imagination, I can tell you.  And shoes-what's with the shoes these young people are wearing?  You only get one set of feet-it pays to treat them well.  Get yourself a great pair of loafers with rubber soles and good strong laces, and maybe a pair of Dr' Scholl's sandals with lots of buckles for support, and you can walk to the ends of the earth....that's what I always say."

Maybe I should start carrying butterscotch discs in my purse.

What else?  I could gripe about being forgetful.....

Oh yes.  Now I remember.

I gave up sugar. (:::gasp:::)

I have a serious addiction to sugar-I can go through an entire bag of Skittles MnMs Peanut Butter Cups just about anything sweet.  And I can cram them into my mouth so fast, you won't even know what I've done.  Until you follow the wrapper trail, that is.

I don't even savor them!  I just gram, gobble, chew til my belly hurts.

But I have heard that this is bad.  And beyond the whole "overindulging face-stuffing" bad. The whole addiction to sugar thing-everyone says it's horrible-worse than other things I have cut out of my diet. That the quest for sugar makes you act crazy.  I need a 12-step sugar program.

It's like I have an eating disorder.  I'm half bulimic.  I binge, but I don't purge. (Ba-dum-bum)

And my clothing that I handed down to a friend when I lost 20 pounds? She just told me I can't have them back.  So it's back on the wagon.  Like the genius I am, I'm planning on breaking my addiction to sugar cold-turkey. During Girl Scout Cookie Season.  Because I plan well. Nothing like a well-thought-out plan of attack, I always say.

Let's recap:
Spoiled girl whines about having to buy new wardrobe to wear on a vacation she doesn't really need because her home state has been 75 degrees all week, and she seems to have enough extra cash to gobble massive amounts of seasonal holiday candy (like peeps, cadbury eggs, coconut creme kisses, conversation hearts, gummy cinnamon hearts, candy corn....:::drool:::).

Yep. That about sums it up.

If I really want to add icing to the cake (mmmmm.....icing......), I could say something incredibly self-centered like, "The big house I just moved into has two hot tubs, but neither is working!"


But that would be over the top, even for me.

I warned you at the beginning. It was a rant, and would probably sound like a well-thought-out cartoon for First World Problems.  What can I say? Tomorrow is another (sugar-free) day, and is filled with (sugar-free) promise. Hakuna (sugar-free) Matata.   Yipp (sugar-free) Ee.