Lords of Acid

I’ve been freaking out the past few days because I’m gradually running out of money.  The little pot of money we have managed to survive on for the last ten months will dwindle down to nothing by the end of the summer.  And then, life as we know it will change drastically once again.  I will have to go back to work.  This freaks me out.  I already feel overburdened and that I do the jobs of at least two people.  Now I will have to learn to do it minus 40 hours a week.  I’ve said many times in the past that we are not only surviving, but, indeed, thriving, because it’s my sole focus.  I’m focused on the four of us, and nothing else.  None of my precious energy is directed outside of this home.  How will I manage?  Who will do all these things that I do?  Right now the baby goes to school three days a week.  During those three days, I do the things that I would rather not do with three kids.  I get time to myself during these days, too.  On Mondays, after I drop them all off, I swear sometimes I just wander around here in an almost catatonic state.  It’s times like this, right now, that I hate Dave so much.  I hate that he was so sick and twisted that he actually believed killing himself was going to be good for us.  What kind of sick fuck can honestly believe that?  Everyone keeps saying they feel certain good things will come to us.  I believe in my heart that is true.  I really do see wild success.  But I’m not sure it’s going to come without some hard work.  I need to find a way to work without being too stressed out and overburdened.  Or I need a suga daddy.  I really just need to win the lottery, and since I feel extremely deserving I think I will start buying more tickets.

I had my pool water tested today and they told me to add muriatic acid to the pool.  They said to keep it away from the kids, because it’s hazardous.  So I put on a pair of gloves and carefully poured what I needed into a glass container and poured it into the pool.  They didn’t tell me when this shit hits the water it makes a big deadly plume of lethal gas!  Oh my fack!  I breathed in the deadly plume and thought I was dying.   Why do they sell this dangerous stuff at a store?  Holy crap!  This stuff is outrageously dangerous.  I don’t even want this in my house.  People think guns are dangerous?  No, people.  This shit, this shit is dangerous.  I ran inside and started googling that I breathed too much, to make sure I wasn’t going to die in the yard.  I guess I am exaggerating the toxic effects, because you would have to breathe more of it to kill you.  But I’m extremely sensitive to chemicals.  My throat burns right now and so does my chest.  I already loathe chemicals and hate smells.  I can’t even clean my own toilets.  I despise bathroom cleaners.  My kids cause me all kinds of pain because they bring me smelly things, like homemade potpourri and scented things they made in school.  What is all that shit?  Why is every commercial for some air freshener that is intended to mask the smell of something stinky?  Why do your houses stink, people?  You want some air freshener?  Open your windows.  Fresh air is free.  Why does everyone think they need all this strong smelly-ness.  I use unscented everything.  My soap has maybe a little lavender in it.  I smell good.  I’m clean and girly.  I don’t smell like apples or peaches or rain water or tropical breeze.  We are supposed to smell like people.  Stop covering up the pheromones, humans.  The smell of a real person is a good thing.  Dave’s arm pit smell used to turn me on.  Don’t even try to lie and act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.  I’m not talking about being stinky.  It’s not a gross smell I’m talking about.  I’m talking about being clean with natural, body scents.  So quit febreezing everything.  I think when you stop using all that scented stuff, your nose becomes more sensitive.  When someone else washes my kids’ clothes my kids ask me to wash the shirts again, because the smell of their detergent is too strong.   If you see no further posts from me, please call the EMTs and tell them I breathed too much muriatic acid.  God, I hope it didn’t affect my champion smeller!