the key to anger management

Unlike most post-vacation trauma, my re-absorption into the daily grind was pretty painless this time.  i’ve maintained a remarkable mellow state of mind, despite flights and airports and stupid, cranky travel people all around me.  My daughter noticed that i’m substantially less irritable.

That was until i made a trek to my pool earlier this week.  The pool is a nice place to just vegetate, when not infested with the Yappy Broads, or the Whiney Family.  Returning from an easy bike ride after work, my bike buddy and i noted that the pool was deserted, and it might be a good time for a splash.

Changing quickly, we walked the short distance down the road, and i put my key in the door.  The lock didn’t turn.  Trying several more times, i jiggled the knob* to no avail.

daisyfae:  Those motherfuckers have changed the lock while i was gone!  Son of a fucking geriatric bitch, they’ve changed the locks without notice!

i went off, in a big way.  Ranting about the Pool Nazis, part of the Condo Association board that frequently gets on my nerves, i was infuriated that they could change the locks without notice, or providing new keys.  Given the control tactics executed over parking and using the proper color of stain on exterior decks, it shouldn’t have surprised me.  The pool had been far more crowded this year, and perhaps they had decided keys had been leaked to the unwashed masses.

Not taking this well, i decided we were going to climb the fence and have a swim anyway.  Sending my bike buddy over the spiked wrought iron fence first**, i held his beer as he hoisted himself over the top, and climbed down the other side.  He was able to go through the clubhouse building, and let me in the front.

Still angry, we had a nice splash in the pool, while i continued to spew vile commentary about the uptight pig-fuckers that manage the association.  Spitting beer into the water, it felt good to defile it.  Oh, the angry phone call the bastards would get first thing Friday morning!  As i ranted and splashed, a couple of teenagers came through the door.  Apparently they’d been issued new keys. 

RAWR!

Shortly thereafter, one of the elderfucks also came through the door.  This is the guy i think is in charge of the non-existent newsletter – which hasn’t been distributed since his Radio Shack TRS-80 computer went on the fritz about a year ago.  Wasting no time, i confronted him as politely as i could.

daisyfae:  When did they change the lock for the clubhouse?  My key no longer works.

Elderfuck [looking confused]:  I don’t know.  I had to get a new key a few weeks ago because I’d lost mine.  I hadn’t heard about the locks being changed.

Still cranky, we finished up the swim and headed out.  As i left, i decided to try the lock once more.  It worked perfectly.

Oops.  Never mind…

* No.  Not like that.

** Because he has longer legs.  And i’m not stupid, even when enraged…

What cookies?

It’s been an unpleasant and slow slog, but i’ve managed to evaporate about 35 pounds since January.  On average, a pound a week.  Not great, not terrible.  But i’ve “plateaued” for a few weeks, and have been trying hard to jump start the weight loss again with lots of exercise and careful attention to diet.

That means no fucking cookies.

Having The Girl living with me again has had some benefits.  i haven’t had to go to the grocery in about two months.  She gets food.  She prepares it and leaves tasty vegetarian scraps in the refrigerator.  Much like Christmas morning, i am often delighted with the yummy green and crunchy* things wrapped in cellophane in the fridge some mornings…

The downside is that she also bakes, or brings home, sweets on occasion.  i have no willpower.   i eat them.  They don’t put up a fight.

Last night, she got home rather late, and i’d just finished my crunching and push-ups workout and was getting ready for bed.  i heard the crackling of the packaging before i smelled them… Oatmeal Chocolate Chips Ahoy!  Not a favorite, but definitely something that would serve as a tasty bedtime snack!

Keeping it to just two small cookies, when i could easily gnaw my way through the entire package in a few short minutes, i instructed her to get them out of sight by morning.

daisyfae:  Hide them!  The last thing i need is to wake up and find these on the counter in the morning…

Upon waking up, and successfully scratching my bits, i found myself in the kitchen.  The debris from her late night dinner was evident, as there were a few pots and pans and other assorted cooking crap piled in the sink, and some clutter and mess on the counter.  Still asleep, but attempting to make tea, i reached for the pile of paper towels left in front of the microwave – and realized just then what a brilliant young woman she’s become…

What's this mess on the counter

Upon closer inspection…

clever trick

Ahhh…. the old “hide in plain sight” trick.  Not exactly what i had in mind…  They survived the morning, but probably only because i’m battling the headcoldfromhell and with 5 pounds of lugubrious secretions inside my head, i couldn’t even taste the damn things. 

Need to get her a spot on the UN Weapons Inspection Team.  Bet they’d never get anything past her…

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* Not to be confused with the “green and slimy” things that tend to set up residence in the fridge when i’m left on my own for a few months…