I wish I wasn't a whiny bitch

So that I could tell you how I went to see Bela Fleck and Del McCoury on Friday with Brian, Action Geek and some of Brian's friends from Vermont and how much it rocked and how bluegrass music makes me so happy and breaks my heart at the same time and how we giggled like high school kids as we chugged $3 beers that we weren't allowed to take back to our seats.

But, I am a whiny bitch so I am choosing to focus in the new carpet that Bill the Carpet Guy (I love you so much, man! Really, I wasn't kidding about rolling around naked on the new carpet.) put in yesterday, and managed to leave dirty footprints on. So, last night, instead of happily putting my room back in order, I lay on my new carpet and sobbed and realized that tears are no match for the cleaning power of OXYCLEAN! I browbeat my poor sister into helping me shampoo the rug, but the rug cleaner seemed more intent of THROWING UP HAIRBALLS than cleaning the carpet.

And of course, I was grumpy and mean to Gargamel even though he patiently stood with me in REI as I debated which headlamp to buy. (I got THIS ONE.) He keeps telling me to stop stressing and use the energy to fix the apartment and that freaking out doesn't get stains out of carpet. BUT I CAN'T. Seriously. I can't do this. Everytime I think we are one step closer to NOT LIVING IN A CRAPHOLE, something happens that creates ten more steps that we have to do before we are finished. IT IS NEVER GOING TO END. EVER.

Or else I am going to destroy all of my meaningful relationships in the process.
I really wish I could cope with stress without going into total meltdown mode, but I can't.