I Don't Know What's Annoying Me More...

My nephew or my mother's 10-year-old computer. My nephew won't take his rollerblades off in the house. He's like a 21st century version of Tootie from The Facts of Life, only a lot more hyper. He's scaring the dogs to death, which is part of why he's doing it. He likes to get them wound up, if not by skating too close to them, then by using one of those toy guns that shoots out styrofoam balls or a fake Indiana Jones whip. All of the torture will eventually manifest itself in the form of a poop and pee fest somewhere in the house before the night is over, which I'll have to clean up even though only two of the six dogs are mine. It's 6 p.m., and he still hasn't done his homework, which, in turn, means that he'll want someone to help him--i.e. tell him the answers--during CSI. Oh, and he's hyped up on sugar cookies, his mother has left for parts unknown, and he won't listen to a word I have to say unless it has to do with him playing Star Wars on his Xbox.

Then there's the computer. I've been trying to fix it for two days now. Fixing this dinosaur is all I ever get to do when I come home. It still has Windows 98 on it and very little RAM, so of course it's as slow as next Christmas and freezes up--oh, I don't know--20 times a day. I'm tired of messing with it, especially considering the fact that every time I get it to work halfway right, someone I know--cough, my sister, cough--comes behind me and downloads some spyware-laden software or screensaver off the internet and installs it on the computer. I've tried to explain why she can't do that without running some kind of virus or spyware scan first, but my explanation went right over her head. The three brain cells she has left in her brain are already exhausted trying to get Tina to walk, text, and smoke all at the same time. They couldn't handle one more function. If Walmart would just bring back layaway so my mom could go put one of those $399 e-Machines on layaway, I'd just chunk this piece of crap right out the bedroom window. As the store has yet to do that, I can't, which means I'll have to settle for imagining the satisfaction of putting my fist through the screen.

I'm in desperate need for either some chocolate or a little less family togetherness. Someone please tell me why exactly I told my mom that I would stay long enough to help her with her yard sale Saturday. All the annoyances are making me forget.