A RE-RUN WHINE ...

I HATE bending over.  If I'm sitting in a chair and I drop my pen or anything that makes me have to bend over I'm all FUCK!!  Whenever I vacuum, which I did today, and the vacuum cleaner does not pick up a tiny piece of paper or a sliver of thread that I've passed the vacuum over ten times I will leave it there until the next time I vacuum.  And you know that that damn piece of paper or sliver of thread will remain on the carpet in the exact same location until I finally have to fucken bend over and pick it up.  However, if I happen to catch the edge of the bedspread with the vacuum it will suck up the entire bedspread.  WHY IS THAT?!  Or how come whenever I lose an earring or some other precious memento and it's fallen on the carpet and the only LOGICAL place on EARTH it could be is within a small diameter of space where I dropped it ... but somehow despite the rules of quantum physics, time and space, that fucken earring will have bounced from that spot on the carpet and magically appear downstairs under the sink?  I HATE when that happens.

The other day I lost my glasses.  I had them in my hand.  I FELT them in my hand.  I KNOW they were in my hand and then ... they were gone.  I was in the living room when I lost them.  I didn't leave the living room and then go upstairs or go outside and make a cartwheel and then go into the kitchen.  The only logical place they could have been was somewhere in the living room.  I looked and looked and looked and cursed a blue streak because THEY WERE IN MY FUCKING HAND TWO SECONDS AGO!!!  And I swear, whenever this crap happens I am certain that early Alzheimer's has set in and I am truly losing my mind.  How could something be there and then ... be gone?  It's like magic.  So after going upstairs three times to search for my stupid glasses (even though I KNEW there was no way in hell they were going to be upstairs) ... I go upstairs anyway) and they're not there.  I retrace my steps for 20 minutes until I finally give up.  I sit on the couch and now I can't find the remote.  I look around and see it on the floor ... OF COURSE ... and, as I bend down to pick it up (FUCK!) THERE ... between the end table and the sofa ... are my glasses.