Yoo Hoo, Snarky!

I'm sorry-- was someone calling my name?

'Tis sad but true. I am the Queen of Snark these past few days.

Plenty of things to blame it on...

• My office at work-- We moved on the first of August and still have no server or internet access. I'm unable to position my cabinets, etc. up against the wall because of the electrical work (that was promised to be completed by the 5th of Aug). Picture me, my desk, empty file cabinets and stacks of boxes squeezed together in a 8x8 cluster in the middle of the room. The teachers come back to work on Monday, and I am to organize orientation on the day-to-day schedule and operations of the school. Here's what I have so far. Do you think the teachers will feel welcomed and prepared for a great school year?

DAY TO DAY OPERATIONS

1. Arrive at the school.
2. Chase a mouse which has been displaced by the move.
3. Give up and go to your desk. Trip over a box and/or cord for good measure.
4. Turn on your computer in the futile hope that the connections have been re-established.
5. Search for necessary documents or supplies amidst the boxes.
6. Go back to number 2 and repeat.

• Or perhaps it's the apartment. The move is tomorrow, which means we've been packing every spare second. Our living area is now a maze of boxes with 12 inch walkways between the rooms. While the kids think it's fun in a InstaFort kind of way, telling Jonathan not to climb on the boxes every few moments increases my snark level significantly ("Jonathan, honey, don't climb on the boxes. You could get hurt or break something," has become "Jonathan! You climb on those boxes and they will fall over on top of you and SQUISH YOU FLAT! I'M NOT KIDDING! STOP. IT. NOW."). The kids are also bored silly, as we've packed away many of their toys and other forms of entertainment (And we all know: Bored=Whiny=Increased annoyance on the mother's part).

Thus, my scandalously high snark levels.

I apologize to the kids and Steve often, and I rest in the assurance that sanctification is a process that will continue until the day I die.
I also breathe easier, knowing that when I whisper, "Father, forgive me,"
God, in His mercy, will do just that.