Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Our shit doesn't stink. So call me back!

I think something has possessed my dear, sweet, wonderful daughter.  It started about a week ago.  She is incessantly whining and her favorite thing to say is MO!  Her version of NO.
Bella, lets get your shoes on. MO!
Bella, time for a tubby.  MO!
Bella, let's go pick up Noah from school.  MO!
Bella, can Mom have a hug? MO!
Then the whining ensues.  I swear that I am going deaf from the whining.  I went into the garage last night after dinner and found my husbands earplugs that he uses when he runs the chainsaw.  I wore them while I cleaned up from dinner and did tubs.  Oh yes I did, and believe me those kids were better for it.  I just could not listen to it for another second.  Even as I sit here she is laying next to me...WHINING.  No amount of coddling or consoling helps, because as soon as you fix the issue at hand another one quickly takes it's place and you are back at square one.  I AM AT A LOSS.  Tylenol for dessert tonight.  Oh crap, I just remembered she is entering the two's.  Grrrreat.

Just for randomness sake, septic system service companies are about as professional as their trade.  Shitty.  I have called all 5 companies in our immediate area and left a message, if not two, with them all.  Because obviously they don't answer their phones.  I have also tried calling them at all different times of the day, nothing seems to work!  I finally came to the conclusion that they obviously don't want our shit.  Literally and figuratively, since I probably would have a little attitude after being ignored for weeks on end.  I mean we have some good shit.  Who wouldn't want it?  I say it is their loss.  I bet they think we are one of those houses where the people never grew up with a septic system and so therefore flush all feminine hygiene products and prophylactics down the toilet.  Well I did grow up with a septic, and flushing a tampon was a GD felony.  Punishments ranged from a stern talking to, from your father, about tampon flushing, which is always enjoyable as a teenage girl, to first handedly having to watch as your poor father disassembled the plumbing to dislodge the horrendous remnants of your ignorance.  Both are excedingly unpleasant, and you learn pretty quickly that you are not one of the fortunate people that have town sewer.

So they won't call me back and it would be such a easy stop!  No septic newbie here!  Gross yes.  True yes.  That's what this little bloggy poo (ha) is all about. 




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