I Can't Work Under These Conditions

This is what my computer screen looks like RIGHT NOW.

That huge black feathery blob thing is the product of my son's precious little size 7 New Balance assuming that my laptop was a trampoline.

Hubs says, "You can't leave your laptop just lying around! This is the second time you've been careless and the screen got broken! I am NOT buying you a new one!"

Well, aren't you a big bully?

Yes, it is true that I have broken this screen previously. Yes, it is true that I tend to leave my laptop just lying around. On the floor, on high unstable surfaces, on the roof of the car...the neighbor's car...my friend's neighbor's car...in another state...in the rain...for three days.

I replied, "Wah! You NEVER buy me anything!"

And I stomped away like a seven year old whose mother refuses to get her Justin Beiber tickets because Ludacris is making an appearance, and she sees no reason for her precious child's little ears to be tainted with the words, "When I was 13, I had my first love. There was nobody that compared to my baby. And nobody came between us who could ever come above. She had me going crazy, oh I was starstruck. She woke me up daily, don't need no Starbucks."

I am so surprised that Luda hasn't won the Nobel Prize for Literature. I mean, come on. Reading or hearing those lyrics is absolutely AMAZING!

No, it makes me wish I was Helen Keller. 

And WTF? What 13 year old needs Starbucks? Get it together, Luda. 

So, after I stomped away, like a complete fool, with a Blow Pop hanging from my mouth, no less, I felt horrible. I don't work. My husband provides everything for us, and he bestows awesome things upon me   frequently- jewelry, vehicles, electronics, expensive name brand deoderant-none of that Tussy stuff.  He never complains when I spend ungodly amounts of money on wrought iron at Hobby Lobby or cartons of cigarettes that will eventually leave me with smoker's lines on my lips and the voice of Barry White with laryngitis. He treats me well.

But, come on! I write on this computer. Daily. And the black feathery blob is growing! It is larger today than it was yesterday! The horror! All of this minimizing and maximizing my window so that I can see what I have written around that black feathery blob is giving me carpal tunnel.

"Honey, I know you won't buy me a computer, but you have to pay for all of my doctor's visits concerning the black-feather-shaped-blob-induced carpal tunnel. Thanks to your lack of buying me a computer, the carpal tunnel has gotten so bad that I no longer have opposable thumbs, I can't feed myself, and I am now categorized as being a part of the Bear Species. Now that I am part of the Bear Species, our insurance has dropped me, and my prescriptions have been picked up by 1-800-PetMeds. Thanks a lot, sweetheart. Now I am merely a bear with carpal tunnel, drinking soup from a straw with my non-opposable thumbs, and I can no longer frequent Walgreens."

Sweet love of my life and sole breadwinner, please just buy me a new computer! I double super duper promise that I will take care of it!

For the first 6 months. Then it's on its own. 

PS- I am totally rethinking that entire big white box full of words at the bottom of that photo. I completely covered up the view of the ocean in that picture. Wouldn't you rather see the ocean than me spouting off about Michael Vick, Pit Bulls and Best Buy? Why certainly.