... so then I yelled at a little kid

yeah, I'm winning all kinds of humanitarian awards over here this week.

Last night, I got home from work, and I had tons of crap to get done before I could even think about relaxing.  So I changed into my civvies, fed the cats, and got some pasta boiling for pasta salad. I figured I could vacuum the foster room while the pasta boiled, then make the salad, then move the kiddie pool before it killed all the grass underneath it, and yada yada yada.

So I'm vacuuming the foster room, turning off the vacuum every few minutes to listen for the buzzer on the pasta.  And then I turn off the vacuum and I hear someone pounding - POUNDING - on the front door.

"Rocky!  ROCKY!  HEY!  Where ARE you?  ROCKKKKKKYYYYYY!" pound pound pound pound.

What. the. f*ck.

I go out into the living room to see the neighbor girl at the door, the one who used to come over and play with the kittens all the time until I told her that if she was going to come over every day, she was going to have to start helping scoop litterboxes, and then I didn't see her anymore.

Well.  There she was, pounding and yelling and peering through the screen door.  "Open up!  OPEN UP!"

"YOU KNOW WHAT?!," I yelled.  "THAT'S REALLY RUDE!   What is your PROBlem?  I can't always answer the door INSTANTLY!"

"uh ... uh ... uh," she muttered.  "I ... I thought you were hurt!  And that's why you weren't coming to the door!"

oops.

but, I mean, really?

"Look," I said.  "I'm sorry I yelled.  I was vacuuming - didn't you hear the vacuum cleaner?  THAT's why I didn't come to the door. I can't always come to the door right away, especially if I don't hear you.  Now, I'm really busy, and you're going to have to wait a minute until I finish vacuuming to visit with the kittens."

"Oh ... okay," she said, and sat down on the front steps.  She came in after I finished vacuuming, and I apologized again for yelling, but she only stayed a few minutes and then left, and frankly I was glad, because see again NINE MILLION THINGS TO DO, but then I felt bad for feeling glad, and then I was all, like, "well, she's going into seventh grade, so it's not like I yelled at a damn TODDLER or something," so, yeah, Justification City, but still, DON'T POUND ON MY DAMN DOOR.

*sigh*

I need a break.  Calgon, take me away, would ya?