I have a bunch of things to do and I am having trouble launching myself into them. A lot of these things I do over and over again and I think maybe other people should GET A CLUE. Also my nose hurts, from the inner part of the sticking out section on my face into the sinuses around it. I have scarfed an Alka-Seltzer Orange Zest dose and am waiting for relief. Also motivation, but motivation isn’t part of the old jingle: Plop, Plop. Fizz. Fizz. Oh, what a relief it is.
I’m planning on starting a fire in the basement – in the fireplace, don’t get excited. The woodsmoke scent will filter up the stairs and the heat will chase any dampness away. Then I thought I would spray a nice bleach solution all over the shower down there. I am assuming nothing will blow up.
Housework. I don’t like it. But then I watched a Hoarder show last night which started with a lady making the same statement at the beginning of the show. And guess what? She was living in a house you could not walk through that was full of cat feces and dead cats. Some of the cats were so dead, they were shriveled up and dried out. And the house was so bad the cleaners were in HazMat gear as they picked up catting droppings with big shovels.
I don’t know if that motivates me or just plain scares me. Oh, and, she shops everyday at GoodWill. Now that scares me.
Then there’s dinner for the two rugrats here. I think we could have a little sporting practice – I’ll make foldovers and shout “go long.”
Aha! I forgot to say I now have a whistle. Yesterday Shane was barking like a total nutcase because some guy was on the roof. Okay, I just read that as I typed it and perhaps when someone is on your roof and you are a dog, you don’t have to be a nutcase to bark alot. But, anyway, I became irritated at his total inattention to my commands to stop and whistled. I don’t whistle well, but this one time it came out loud and piercing and he stopped in his tracks.
I thought, “Good God, you ARE an Australian Shepherd from real working stock. Did you hear whistles when you were a wee pup? We’re giving it a try. I think Quentin is a little worried this will be the start of a regime of the autocratic whistler, but I will try and keep myself in check.
I think the pressure is easing in my little nose and some drainage is occurring; that means I am supposed to get on the ball.
I am still sitting here. Obviously, there is a glitch in my plan. Maybe if I imagine there is a cobra nestled in the cushions behind me . . . No, no, I don’t want to fool around introducing that thought to my mind. It come could back to haunt me. Do you know when I was a little girl, I had a fear of snakes crawling into the foot of my bed. I think that comes from being an early reader or old scary movies shown on TV. Having a tendency to be irrational might be an additional factor.
Later, alligator.
