Cleaning the house. I mean, really cleaning, getting down and dirty and sweaty for hours. Doesn't matter if no one thanks me, either. Seeing them come and use and defile my clean house just lets me know how needed I am. It's like job security, only I pay money.
When the computer crashes. All that stuff I'd written? I'm sure it sucked anyway. Better to start over.
My rampant ADD. Makes life interesting, yo.
Whining. How else would two eight-year-olds get my attention? (Note to kids: Parents have selective hearing too. For example, I'm completely tattle-deaf in both ears.)
Not being able to find my way from frickin' anywhere to anywhere else. I've probably seen more of the state than anyone. Just don't ask me to take you there a second time.
Playing Bakugan for hours on end.
Kardashian Shore, or Keeping Up With the Jerseys, or whatever.
Having a living room that smells like feet.
Having a yard that takes a machete to navigate. We have a "flower jungle" according to my son.
Cutting my son's fingernails. The horrible screaming means I'm doing it right. Right?
April Fool's Day.