Like A Child Again

This morning, I awoke late. By 'late', I mean that I woke up around 4 or 5 and consumed enough caffeine to let me sleep again. Did I mention that I'm addicted to Diet Mt. Dew? Because I am. Because when I don't have enough, I can't sleep through the night. I wake up and chug some, and then go back to sleep because my caffeine levels are better.

This morning, when I finally decided to keep my eyes open, Momma was standing over me. "It's alive!" she said. I waived her away. About ten minutes later, I was almost upright, and she decided it would be a good idea to tell me what to do next. Mind you, I had already decided how to spend my (pseudo-productive) day. She said, "You better get up so you go work out." I replied, "Does it really matter what time of day I go to the gym?" She answered, "Well, the longer you take, the less likely you are to get it done."

True, friends, absolutely true. Yet, if I'm up late, I'm still planning a workout. If I'm up and already into my day, then it is less likely that I'll work out.

I finally dragged myself up, around 11:30, and dressed to go to the gym. As I walked out, she asked me if I remembered my towel, my water, and my book. I said, sarcastically, "Yes, thank you." People, my gym is two buildings away from my apartment. Were I to forget something, I think I could either find my way back, or just suck it up for the day.

This evening, I told her that asking me if I remembered the details was condescending. Her response? "I guess I won't help again."

Really? REALLY???

Tonight, as a final fuck-you to Sunday, I realized that I don't have any Scotch tape with which to wrap gifts. I told Momma that the mailing would have to wait a day. Her response? "I guess the gifts won't get there by Christmas, then." Because a mailing on the 15th is vastly more important than one on the 16th.

I feel like a kid again. It's not a good feeling.

Didn't help when my boyfriend backed her up.

That's it, I'm finding a Sherpa guide and never coming back.