I should be cleaning more. But I'm not. I've already thrown out two bags of trash, two boxes full of shiznit and a bunch of magazines. I've also vacuumed and scrubbed and washed. Take that, trash-talkin' ex-roomie of mine. I do have motivation, even if it's derived from boredom.
I just thought of something that happened over break though...
My mom and I were at the grocery store getting stuff for our Christmas dinner (roast beef and mashed potatoes, baby--mmmmm...). As we were inspecting meat, a family rolled into the section with two carts and three terrors in tow. One boy was playing jungle gym with one cart. I thought he was going to fall out and simultaneously de-tonsilfy himself. In the other cart were two toddlers playing the game "let's see who can scream the shrillest and loudest." There was also a baby in a carrier. The parents looked on like their little zoo was the most charming thing ever.
I looked at my mom and said, "THAT is the greatest birth control EVER."
As I was saying that, though, Mom was waving at the mother. The family then came over to where we were and Mom began talking with the mother.
It took me a couple of seconds to register who it was, but when it hit me, it HIT. ME.
The mother of the screaming kids was my classmate Cassandra. This was the girl that was my mortal enemy through middle school and then the girl who's mom made my life hell as my cheerleading coach. This was the girl who claimed "immaculate conception" when she got pregnant senior year. This girl? This girl now has four. kids.
And she said she had another on the way--due in May.
She's only 23.
There is something SO wrong about that. No just about her being a baby machine, but about the fact that she looked exhausted and not all that happy.
And then people wonder why I don't want children.
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~