Yesterday, I showered midday and then realized that it was trash day and if I wanted to be productive and get junk out of the garage, I should do so. But that would get me dirty. I don’t mind getting dirty, but that would mean I’d have to shower again. That’s not so bad, but it’s a series of steps: find new clothes to put on, undress, take the bathrobe and towel into the shower room, get shampoo on your hair, then wash you body under the shower while allowing your hair to rinse, then re-sudsing your hair because your mother always told you to wash it twice, getting out of the shower, toweling up, putting on some clothes, drying your limp, thinning hair and put on more clothes.

Actually, all those steps aren’t so bad; what’s unpleasant is anytime I get in the shower I remember being bored with baths when I was little and my parents making me stay in one until I got wrinkly fingers.  Sometimes I still feel the urge to cry out, “I’m wrinkled.”

The extra trash did not get loaded up and it is still there. Now I could go out and retrieve my trash cans from the curb and start putting the aforementioned dirty junk in them, or I could not. I don’t have the just showered excuse. I feel I am being pushed into a moral corner here.  It’s amazing how long one can sit and ponder the virtues of morality.

I went to the bank and then because the grocery was in the same lot, I thought I’ll just run in there and see if I can hit the usual time for their major markdowns on cheeseballs, pinwheel sandwiches, pico de gallo and so forth.

I didn’t. On top of missing the sale, I realized I had committed the cardinal sin of entering a grocery when you are hungry. I let myself be seduced by the snacks on sale and the and the added bonus of getting $5 back if you mix and/or matched five items.

I invested in crackers, if not opened, would have some shelf life. And then I spied the Nacho Goldfish and made that pick #5. I didn’t open it the car or right after I arrived home. I’d say I made it for about 10 minutes before ripping the bag open.

They are okay. However, they seem fatter than the regular goldfish – more like puffer fish. This is not a major thing; I realize this right down to the soles of my feet. I will eventually succumb, though, because that has been my habit for a lifetime. It makes me sigh, this failing of mine. I mean, why would the company make a bigger mold for nacho goldfish than regular fishies? It has to be my imagination. But, then again, maybe the company wanted them to be more full-bodied to maximize the flavor.

I suppose I will wind up using calipers to make the final determination. Were I in elementary school, perhaps I could pass it off as an school research project. Alas, I will have to accept the eccentric old lady analysis, which is very little different from the eccentric AmeliaJake analysis that has been well established.

Yes, I have been away for the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse for some time. I could say it was a phase, but it seems to be a recurring one. Maybe I’ll be here tomorrow and maybe not.

Had I been here everyday, I’m certain I would have been crying into my CheerWine at the FooBar about the number of gloomy days with rain we have experienced.

Actually, I think one of the reasons I’ve been staying away is because the decor here has changed – and I don’t mean someone dusted; the new, crisp theme is just that. It is not cozy. I like cozy.  I am considering hauling it out of the bin, complete with all of its pages and sidebars.  But then, WordPress would keep nagging me about it and I would sigh and ignore the little hints that I update it every darn time I log in.

Surely something must have happened while I’ve been away. Well, no, not really; there’s been a lot of sofa-sitting and reading and wandering out to the kitchen for eats even though I am really wanting to lose weight.

Oh, a pipe in the upstairs bathroom started leaking but I thought it was the skylight with all the rain . . . until the leak got very vigorous and we finally figured it out. My bucket list now includes reaching the point where I don’t need a bucket balanced on the stairs.