I woke up this morning after going to bed earlier this morning. Needless to say, I was a bit tired.
My normal Sunday begins in an almost ritualistic manner. I shlup to the kitchen in my jammies and big soft slippers, get out my french roast pot, my extra-large coffee mug, fill one with coffee and the other with expensive pretend sugar and creamer. Then, as the water bowls, I try to wake up. I’m not always successful.
This morning, when the kettle clicked off, I lifted it from the heater and poured the contents into the pot. Or at least I thought I did. When I looked down, I realized I had poured it into the mug and had ruined the extensive sweet mix.
I did the only thing I could do. I shouted “ShitFart!”
Then I laughed.
I have no idea where the hell that word came from. Now mind you, I can swear with the best of them and because I’m a preschool teacher I have a lot of imaginative, yet harmless, swears including Holy Cats, Cheesy Peesy, and my favorite, Well, Bummer! At home, however, I can make a sailor blush.
Never once have I shouted, “ShitFart!” before today. Normally, “f” word is THE “f” word and as we all know shit floats alone.
Perhaps I’m just easily amused, but I made myself laugh this morning and I now have a new expletive for some character to use.