The Return of the Sludge

Oh dear. This day has not gotten off to the best of starts, I must say.

First, I woke up 10 minutes earlier today, sick and tired of being super stressed and flustered in our attempt to leave on time. Which means that I got 10 less minutes of sleep. Boo. Granted, that's not enough to throw my hands up in the air and say, 'this day is ruined - ruined!!!' - even I'm not that much of a diva.

Remember my what-in-the-world-will-I-wear rant of yesterday's post? Well, it took a bit of finessing, but I finally manged to choose the right attire for today's mix of conditions and activities. I slipped on my pink sweater/jacket thingie, and Hubs and I left the house.

Where our front closet is. The closet that currently houses my fuchsia pea coat. The pocket of which safely cradles my TTC metropass. Which means I have to spend an additional $10.50 on five tokens so I can transport my carcass around town today, when my carcauss haulage would have been pre-paid if I'd had the stupid pass.

Sucks.

I come to this realization as I vacate my train and head into Union station. I'm already a bit bleary eyed because the 7:17 train was arriving just as Hubs dropped me off, and since you never look a gift GO train in the mouth, I skipped my morning ritual of procuring coffee at the station in order to make the train.

So I'm caffeine deprived as well. But wait - it gets even better.

I'm making my way into Union as my cell phone goes off and it's Hubs. This is not good. Hubs and I do not have sweet little 'how's your day goin'?' convos at 8:04 am. He's calling for a reason, and chances are, it's not a good one.

You see, Hubs calls DeeDee every night before she goes to bed to see how her day goes, and every morning before she goes to school to tell her to have a good day, etc. Awww.....I know. He's such a good guy and a super dedicated dad. Very impressive, my Hubs. The only problem is that every time he calls to talk to DeeDee, Sludge wants to get on the phone with him and bitch about one thing or another.

Annnnnd today is no exception.

To set the scene - DeeDee, like most almost 10 year old girls, loves babies. She adores my nephew, loves spending time with him, has all sorts of dolls that are her 'children' (please let that be as close as she comes to real parenthood for at least another 10 years), and relishes any opportunity she has to be where she and a baby will share the same oxygen.

Apparently Sludge's 17 year old cousin went and got herself knocked up, so they're having a baby shower for her this weekend - Saturday afternoon, in a town far, far away. This is supposed to be DeeDee's weekend with us, but she, being the huge baby lover, wants to go to this shower. Not that the baby's even born yet, but I suppose that's secondary.

So, Sludge jumps on this, calls Hubs and says that he'll have to trade weekends, but he can have her for two weekends in a row. Gee thanks. Then he points out one thing.....

....the Christina Aguilera/Pussycat Dolls concert is this Sunday.

The one that caused so much 'upset' back in January. The one that I was to take DeeDee to, and that was that.

Well, now that we're but five days away, Sludge is up to her old tricks again - if she doesn't go with me, she can't go at all. Awesome.

So Hubs rightly calls her on her shit, saying that's why she wants to change weekends, so he can't get her to the concert with me. Ooooo boy, this is gonna get fun.

And here we are yet again, ladies and gentlemen. Hubs gets DeeDee on the phone and tells her what her mom has said and she's upset - of course she's upset! Part of me, upon hearing this from Hubs on my cell as I'm standing in Union, wants to call Sludge, get her on the phone and give her a piece of my mind. But then I remember I need all of the pieces I've got and that it likely wouldn't do anything positive (other than make me feel better) so I drop it.

Hubs is heading out to see DeeDee tonight after work as CJ and I are going for dinner and to see We Will Rock You - our Christmas gift to one another. I hope he has some time to talk some sense into her, but as with all things that Sludge gets her greasy paws in, this one will likely be a game day decision.

Fortunately CJ and I have this great standby rule as a pillar of our friendship - if we ever need a seat filler for one reason or another, we happily and willingly accompany the other to whatever is on the playbill that evening without even a second thought about being invited at the very last minute.

So when I see her tonight, I'm going to get her to pencil me in for Sunday night, 'cause it looks like it might be more of a ladies event than a girls night out.

I know that if I was super altruistic I'd just turn the tickets over to Sludge and let her get her way yet again, but this time, I just can't. I hate, I really do hate, the fact that DeeDee might not get to go to this concert, but I just flat out refuse to be walked on again and again by a woman who detests my very existence and refers to me as the other 'cancer' she has in her life. And I ain't talking astrological signs - I'm a Leo.

So for once, I have put my foot down and I totally intend to keep it there. She's gotten away with walking all over everyone with no consequence to her (everyone always bends because it's in DeeDee's best interest - case in point, her sharing Christmas with us) and I'm just not going to stand by and let it happen anymore.

I realize there are some of you that will disagree with me and my hard line on this one because in the end DeeDee is the one who has to bear the real brunt of this, but sometimes a diva has to stand up for herself, especially when she's spent the last 2.5 years bending over for the greater good.

And that's your daily dash - the early edition. That's it for today though - I won't be home until well after midnight, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow for a new post. How's your diva doin'?