Schmuck

I am one.  Patricia calls at 7:25 this morning asking if I would call another friend to unclog her toilet. And I lied through my teeth and told her he was at his cottage all week and was unavailable.   Then I gave her the name of my real plumber.  She said she would wait until Monday and BTW, if  she needed to shit could she use my toilet.  TMI, as it were.  What am I gonna say?  Then three hours later she calls and asks if I could stop tomorrow and get her some of her Popsicles. Gonif needed some turkey so I said I would do it today and went out to La Kroger to get a few items.  Meanwhile, I was thinking to myself that a frittata sounded nice for dinner as I had gone to the farmers market and got some tomatoes, herbs, and fingerling potatoes.  Well, I shopped, walked home and put Patricia's Popsicles away, of which she had plenty, and said I had my own frozen stuff to put away and stupidly mentioned what I had planned for dinner.  Schmuck.  She blatantly asked for one for her dinner, too.  I said it might be too warm to cook but if I did I would make enough for two.  Schmuck.  Schmuck.  Fuxing Schmuck.  I go a week without seeing her and blam! I get overwhelmed in a day of sainted schmuckhood.

My cats are still melting,  may be time to turn on the air.  Schmuck.