Where did the little angel get all of these bug bites?  Was it at home?  Was it because she plays with chalk too close to the Puffer?  I should bail out the Puffer.  I hate that boat cover.  We should've bought a new boat cover in the Ozarks. We need one that will be tight, like a drum. 

I wonder if my parents still have my old snare drum from high school?

I need to buy bug spray for the little angel, so she doesn't get eaten.  What if she gets West Nile?  S. had West Nile and couldn't work for six months.  But she's two now, and everyone knows two-year-olds can sustain anything an adult can.  It says so right there on all the medicine bottles. Sort of. At least they're in the dosage chart.

I hate bug spray.  I hate DEET. It sounds too much like DDT.  Which is worse, letting her get eaten by bugs and possibly contracting West Nile or covering her in poisonous toxins every day?  Why are even fucking bugs more scary now then they were when I was a kid?  I can't let her play in the yard without supervision because I know there's a rapist two doors down thanks to that damn sex-offender web site, and I can't let her just get a bug bite because I know she could get sick.  IGNORANCE WAS GODDAM BLISS.  I hate how not ignorant I am. I will now aspire to being more ignorant, at least as far as parenting is concerned.

I can't forget to go get the Nuvaring. I can't believe I brought an empty box to the Ozarks.  Now we'll have to use condoms.  If we have sex. But I want to have sex!  I want lots of sex!  Hotel sex!  I will not be getting hotel sex.  Will he laugh at condoms?  Do I remember what size he wears?  He'll be pissed if I get the wrong size.  Maybe I should just buy really big ones, just like I'd want him to buy smaller underwear than would fit me.  Hmm.  This is why men should have to buy their own shit.  How am I supposed to remember how big he is compared to the rest of the world so that I can buy appropriately-sized condoms?  Damn Nuvaring.  Do I know how to reset that timer?  I bet it works just like my PDA.  (pause while sticking paperclip in hole in back of timer)  Yup.  God bless industry standards.

Don't eat the Play-doh!  DON'T EAT THE PLAY-DOH!

The cat was locked in the bedroom all afternoon and pissed all over my bed.  I'm really mad about the bed.  But I feel kind of bad for the cat. I'm sure it reached about 95 degrees in there. Poor Sybil.  She didn't ask for it. BUT MY BED!  WAH!!!!!!! MY BED!!!!!  Be nice to the cat - you don't know how long she'll live.

Nuvarings cost $39?  WITH INSURANCE?  You've got to be kidding me.  Is my lack of organization and memory worth $25 a month?   Wait a second - how much does the little angel cost a month?  $800 for daycare, $30 for diapers, probably $50 in food and milk, $40 in broken/lost/outgrown clothing/toys/play-doh/sidewalk chalk...yeah, Nuvaring is SO worth it.

Why is it that every time I get in line at Osco the check-out person looks at me as though my order is the world's hardest Sudoko? Like this is a life-changing experience for them?  Are you standing at the crossroads of your check-out career?  Just take the damn red pill and check me the fuck out.  And quit staring at my kid like that - she's missed six meals in this line.

I have to reschedule Parents As Teachers. Why do I do that?  Last time she told me that if you want to make your kid smarter, you just put more books in your house. I have never seen a finer example of misinterpreting statistical results in my life, especially displayed by someone who is charged by the great state of Missouri with teaching me how to parent.

Why do we have to iron clothes?  Why?

Are the sheets done yet?  Damn, Sybil - are you missing your box now?  There is cat pee dribbling across my floor!  EWWWW!  She is so geriatric, it is not even funny.  That cosmetic surgeon I sat next to on the flight to the coast last week told me that if people knew the truth about how dirty animals are, no one in their right mind would live with one.  And now Sybil is so totally proving him right.  But I so love her even though this is the second life-sustaining surface she has peed on in eight hours.  Damn cat.

I should get the little angel to drink from an open cup. She's probably old enough for that. I don't know if I can take away any more security objects right now. I feel weary. I should potty train her. It's summer.  She never wants to sit on it, though. Should I force it?  I think I might've shot my parenting wad on getting her past the paci and crib phase.  I have nothing left to give. 

Do I really have to bleach my teeth with these strips for 14 nights?  What about maybe a week? I feel like a boxer with these things in.  Why do I care what color my teeth are?  Or my hair or my skin?  Why is everything on me bleached or stained darker?  What does that say about the human condition?

I think I'll go read The Devil Wears Prada while I bleach my teeth.

Did I wash off the little angel's bug spray?