Our Bad Day

The day started off as many do but it soared into a world of sewage within a matter of hours.
I went to work knowing that it wasn't going to be an easy day. When you work at a newspaper, everybody wants something, so you learn to deal with that you have something they want and you try to gauge what is reasonable and what is not. There is no way to make everyone happy, and honestly, I don't even try.
So, all day, people wanted something, and I found myself starting to get testy. I looked in my back account and realized there would be no quick trip to Memphis or Nashville in the future to see the Oscar-nominated movies which has been a tradition over the past decade because taxes, a whopping two grand, is due.
The headache grew, snippets of despair started washing over me like a cold, ice-filled rain and when you think things won't get worse, they invariably do.
As Squeegee, Rodent and I all live in The Commune with Squeegee's wife, Homer, and the two kids, I realized the revelance that things do get worse.
Lice.
The girls, Corn and Bear, brought home a pet parasite home from school for all of us to enjoy. I have never had to deal with Lice in my life, but apparently there is an epidemic of it going on in the Weakley County School System.
As a proud and verifiable slob, I must say that my housemates are not as bad as I am and how they put up with me, although I like to think I have other mad skillz that contribute to the The Commune, I do not know but I digress.
Homer is one clean woman. There is always a bottle of some type of cleaner sitting randomly around the house sitting like a piece of art. A can of Pledge on the entertainment center, bathroom cleaner on the table next to the bathroom and copious bottles of generic Febreeze are always within sight.
She compulsively cleans the toilets and her vacum cleaner is always at her side like Dirty Harry's big ass Magnum.
One of her recent delights was the purchase of a steam cleaner, so if you are thinking it's a dirty abode, you are sadly mistaken.
So we spent much of the evening cleaning bed linens and kids' heads, swearing under our breath and convincing a six year old and a nine year old that they were not going to die, although we pondered a suicide-homicide death pact between all of the adults due to our sheer exhaustion and frustration but we know that Corn and Bear don't know how to cook or drive so we decided to see another day for their sakes.
Homer has been our leader, Squeegee has turned into a forty-year old curmudgeon about it and Rodent is just staying away.
As for me, realizing that affordable beer would not help this situation, I just went to my small living room (we all have one) to break this down in my head.
I don't have lice, just the kids, but I don't like it. I don't like seeing them freaked out because they are little and afraid, although hearing Bear wander around the house saying in one of the deepest southern drawls I've ever heard, "We got The Lice. It's like a Tick, but it ain't the same thing." sorta was amusing. I hate cleaning as much as I hate jello (which I do despise with my entire being because it makes me gag.) I also was going though my own emotional stuff before I ever walked through the door because recently I have felt extremely underappreciated and I just can't shake it.
It wasn't a great day.
But to see the kids dancing to American Idol later in the evening asking if Paula Abdul has ever had "The Lice" because her hair looked funky kinda made me chuckle as I exhaustedly fell out on a chair watching them dance to one of the male contestants slaughter a song (okay, I'm leaning for the gray-headed guy, who actually did a pretty good job.)
Life will go on.
I really need that trip to the city.