I’ve been too busy munching to note anything. Traumatized by a three-hour search for my purse on Saturday morning after working all day Friday and loading the car that night, I arrived to eat restaurant food to console myself. I have also been watching non-stop BBC programs – mysteries, MidSomer Murders.
AND APPARENTLY I BECAME CATATONIC BECAUSE THIS WAS WRITTEN THREE DAYS AGO.
More painting, with primer . . . and more and more fence. Is my fence a rabbit family wearing the cloak of a fence? Alien rabbits, or, oh dear, just aliens that breed fast and expand? Slimy things. I really don’t want to follow this line of speculation any more at all. I’ve probably spooked myself. And, of course, the fence is grey: and what color are the traditional movie aliens? Now, I’ve gone and done it. The next thing you know is that I will paint myself grey and claim to have been abducted. Or it could be worse; I could be actually abducted into the fence – God knows my chest has always been flat as a board – and just stand there mute while people investigate my disappearance. Maybe Rose will speak at a little service for me.
Say, I wonder if I have been sniffing too much paint?
The Grommet, a site that introduces new devices, sent me an email about a teeth cleaning twig. Yes, TWIG. Perhaps there is a lot of paint sniffing going around.
Yes, you can get a body inside a chest freezer, but we all knew that from all the movies on TV. Now I know it because I realized there was just way too much frost lining the freezer walls and I took everything out. When I went to clean it, I discovered stubborn stains in the bottom corners. I’m short and leaning over just didn’t do it; the step ladder idea didn’t work well either. I climbed inside with a spray bottle of cleaner and a roll of paper towels.
Actually, it wasn’t bad in there, not that I could stretch out and I suppose I would tire of getting low enough for the top to close. Climbing out was a little troublesome as well. After going to all that work to clean it out, I hated to put the frozen stuff back in, but I did because who wants roasts, hams and turkeys rotting on your basement floor?
Then I cleaned out the old refrigerator that’s down there. It is working much better since I discovered the iceball that had formed in the back of the freezer. What is all this domestic work I’ve been doing? Could it be that I have had some sort of breakdown?
What do you think?
I could have painted last evening, but yesterday afternoon I was so tired, I decided to nap. As in actually go to sleep; do not pass go, do not read, do not surf the Internet. Then I woke up and there was still time to paint, but having decided to not do so the first time, the second decision was so easy.
I was feeling kind of down and thought about watching YouTube Tickle Me Elmo videos, but settled instead for Anderson Cooper getting the giggles. I almost wish I had a Giggle Me Coop doll. I suspect some people don’t admit to knowing me.
In this house on North Riley Street, I have WAY too much stuff; Glenda* is correct in her assessment of people having too much stuff. I emptied out about six wooden boxes that had “treasures” in them and now I have two small plastic containers marked “Mother” and “Possible Christmas” – and I also have a cardboard box full of cute little empty wooden boxes. Being the sentimentalist that I am, I couldn’t bring myself to scrawl TRASH or NO KEEP on the cardboard flap; I wrote practically a whole sentence about them being okay, but not necessary. Oh, it is going to take a lot of 12-step meetings to help me.
Maybe I should post pictures of stuff and write, “You want it, you got it.” I even have an idea for the use of some of the boxes – put presents to people in them. Add a bow and, hey, they will think you are creative and then they can either use or toss the box. It won’t be my problem, or yours.
Of course, I suppose I could toss them in the fireplace come winter. I know, I’ll do it on a gloomy day and put a sad movie on TV and watch them slowly char and then go up in flames and cry tears that will fit the day, the movie and my incredible ability to attach memories to inanimate objects.
You probably don’t believe how crazy I can be. Well, try this on for size: I have the teaspoon that my father used right before he died AND THE APPLESAUCE IS STILL ON IT. I know, Daddy, I shouldn’t let people know about this quirk, but it may be the only way I can get help.
*Glenda – Wise first cousin who actually has uncluttered horizontal surfaces in her house. Oh, but she lives on a farm with outbuildings. Glenda, you don’t have a hidden stash of old Woodrow/Grismore things, do you? Do you still have the first saddle Logan put on a horse, the first band-aid from when she fell off?
Will I do stuff today or not? Oh, I could happily do “stuff” like going out for lunch, renting a nice car and driving to Oregon, munching a cookie. The question really is: Will I do gosh darn, really annoying, dirty, tiring, crummy chores? If I do, I’ll bet I’ll be stomping around and not a bit like Mary Poppins. And to think all the chores my ancestors did just a couple of generations ago . . . Well, that didn’t have the hoped for morale booster effect? It’s looking pretty bad here, folks.
AHA – –AND AN UPDATE
Yes, the kitchen has had some cleaning and the fence has a some priming, but the best part was when my recruited worker got a sad look on her face and said, “We worked so much* and go so little done.” Oh, I know that makes me sound me and I probably am mean, but after years of pushing on, I couldn’t help but feel some fascination when she continued to remark on the amount of “sweat” on her body.
*One and a half hours outside. Not quite ready for the Japanese POW camps yet.
My father once got so aggravated with me that he loudly sighed out the words, “No one could ever tell you anything.”
You know, there is a teensy-weensy outside chance that he might have been right.
I recently mentioned our relatively cool summer and WHAM!!!!!, it is not 100 degrees, but it has been in the 90’s and humid. I believe the low was 70 last night. Of course, those who live in southern areas are rolling their eyes, I suppose, but it has been over a year since we have had warm nights and it feels a bit strange to have the air give you a moist hug when you venture out at midnight. (Trash night, dontcha know?) We are all feeling wimpy for remarking on the heat in parking lots, when we remember that three years ago, we would have been so glad to have a day that only made it to 90.
As for precipitation, well, it may rain and it may not. The percentages keep changing on my phone forecasts and, in fact, the sky alternates from angry to bright blue – that would have annoyed me 50+ years ago in my suntanning days. Yes, I’m old enough to have been around when tanning was in vogue, although I do remember us all shuddering when we were at the pool at Indiana University and saw this lady with skin that looked like thick, creased leather. I think that caused me to wise up more than any scientific alerts.
It’s still mid-afternoon and I could put on crummy clothes and do something dirty – outside where it’s hot – and sweat. Or I could just sit here and think about it. I need to find my sunglasses, though. The hunt might take a long time; I imagine I might have more success if I got up and actually looked. The view over the computer is someone limited. Of course, I could look at that as a challenge.
Why, why, why do medical assistants constantly refer to a doctor as “Doctor” as is “Doctor will see you now.” or “Doctor wants you to know . ..” I’m certain that almost every other English noun referring to a person has an article in front of it. The doorbell rings, someone answers and yells, “THE plumber is here.”
“Room Service” may be here, but “THE waiter” rolls it in.
I’m guessing at the asylum, the workers say, “Here comes THE new nutcase.” Yet, they tell the nutcase” DOCTOR will be right in.
Obviously, I am still irritable.
I am usually easy to annoy, often sharp and have an irritable response close at hand, but these past few days, I have been the Mt. St. Helens of irritability. I’m not really expecting to be very pleasant today, but I think yesterday was eruptive. When one hapless grocery-bagger was totally incapable of following the simple request to hold the bar code where it could be scanned and twisted the item six ways to Sunday and then gave me a puppy dog look, I responded with “the look of death.”
That was the beginning. Another look of total pity and disdain was addressed to a young medical technician who looked at me and asked, “Have you ever had your blood drawn before?” Then when a urine analysis was required and I asked for some water first, she hesitated as if that couldn’t possibly work and grudgingly gave me a glass. When I went into the restroom, my eyes were sarcastically telling her, “Now, sister, I’m going to go piss one for the Gipper.” Like she would get the reference.
One man mentioned the bushes needed trimming around my house and I let him know that I abhorred neatly little manicured shrubs whose shapes denied the random flow of nature and were far too short to impart any sense of of wooded refuge into the house.
As the day progressed, I came home and remarked to my daughter-in-law that I had run into “that floozy”.
Fortunately, when I discovered the pharmacy had put conflicting information on the medicine bottle, I just decided I’d call on the next day and went stomping off to be by myself,
Gee, looking back at this, I’d say I didn’t really erupt; I rumbled. Which means . . .????? Vancouver, this will soon be it? Maybe.