I have always found Sunday night to be a depressing time. For a procrastinator it was a constant time of doom during school years, facing homework still to be done. Friday was so comfy with the whole week-end ahead and then it was time to face the music. I would swear each week I wouldn’t put things off the next weekend. I was lying to myself. I cultivated that practice into a lifestyle. If my lifespan were to follow the same pattern, I wouldn’t die until I was 150.

Somehow I know that were I to be given a fresh start at life, the second time around AmeliaJake would be sitting here on a Sunday night staring at the blank first page of an essay or the first problem in a math assignment. Sigh.

If Teddy Roosevelt were my age now, he would have been dead for 10 years. That doesn’t exactly follow logically, but it is a nice little factoid.

I am not waterlogged, but I have suffered my wall being torn down, having the dining room sealed off with dehumidifiers and dryers going, not to mention moving a bunch of stuff. Last night, I was sitting here and I heard ANOTHER LEAK – this time in the living room where one had been fixed before for mucho money, imagine replacing cast iron pipe. When the plumber came, no matter how many faucets we turned on and toilets we flushed, no leak appeared.

So now we wait.

I will be taking pictures. At least there is insurance. Oh, to go into the dining room, you have to unzip this cool temporary vinyl door. I am thinking I could find uses for such a thing.

“Well, gee, officer, when I went to bed that vinyl door was right there. Could it have been cat burglars?”

And for my daily whine: I want someone to come in an clean my house and hold at gunpoint people who choose a counter instead of a trashcan, who pee all over the toilet , who leave plates, glasses everywhere and who would be amazed to learn there are drawers and closets for clothes.

I’d  say I’ve missed a couple of days here – mainly because I got sucked into replaying Myst and then a couple of other puzzles and now I’m trying to figure out how to use zodiac signs carved on trees to make progress. I thought to myself, “Well, AmeliaJake, I do believe you are entertaining your brain but getting not one thing done.” That would be about right.

I am overwhelmed with chores, not to mention the hour spent yesterday flipping up  the rumpled sheet of ice that coated the driveway when the temperature plunged. Wet shoes, wet feet, went jeans up to the knees. But hey, it was almost 40 and not -5 with windchill. Got to count those blessings, dontcha know.

I did take some stuff to the basement and got sidetracked there by a jigsaw puzzle of Santa left from Christmas. I’d guess I spent about two hours piecing together some toys in his bag, a couple of presents and looking for the face of a blond doll.  It is a Springbok puzzle and they really like to toy with you visually. (Her face is probably under the table on the rug.)

The days are getting longer, but that means the time to switch to Daylight Savings Time is getting shorter and WHOMP, there goes that extra light in the morning. You watch the morning commute get lighter and lighter and then you are back in pitch black. I read there are a lot of heart attacks and strokes on the Monday after the switch.

Being this far west in the Eastern Time Zone is a bitch.

It was supposed to be a psychological thriller and Jude Law was the lead character. So how bad could it be? I don’t know; I suppose some will think it was a fine movie. The acting was okay and the settings were interesting. BUT IT DEPRESSED THE HELL OUT OF ME. That can’t be right, if the Hell is out of me, why do I feel as if I have  lost every one I cared about, been humiliated by people, have no money for food and am sleeping under cardboard in the freezing rain?

The name of this movie is “The Nest”.  It supposedly was in Netflix’s top ten.  But here’s the audience rating:

From the getgo of the football season,  I have not rooted for the Lions. Actually, all my life in which I have been aware of football, I have not cheered the Lions on.

This year, for some unknown reason, my grandson and granddaughter have decided I am a Lions’ fan. And, for the love of whatever, the Lions have been winning. They delight in this. I wake from a nap with a Lions blanket thrown over me. A Lions hat comes in the mail. They walk behind me and say “Lions.” I am past sighing.

Today, the Lions beat Tampa Bay and it was agony for me. Now the Chiefs are playing and my granddaughter does not like that team. So,  it could get pretty loud and tense here. (She yells at the TV.)

Perhaps I should just put that Lions blanket over my head and wait it out with my deaf ears – with earplugs in to be safe.

bob movie  

Try clicking on the above green words to meet my friend. Actually, clicking green will bring up another green link. Click that and WOO HOO, here’s Bob.

Bob has been riding in the car with me and that’s why he is wearing  a ladies knit cap as a coat.  We have some trouble  with the seat belt and Bob tends to roll on the turns.

This may be unconventional, but it is so AMELIAJAKE.

I should probably have written the title in a way that the “fat” was in reference to a fat lie and not to me, precisely. Yes, I am still overweight and those cheap, but strangely addictive butter cookies from Kroger’s didn’t help. They are seasonal and, knowing this, I bought extras when they went on sale. Now I am in withdrawal.

Today has been one to inspire grumpiness – my 5:30 to 7:20 am taking someone to work commute was not snowy at first, but the radio person said it was going to get dicey and there was an accident by a corner near my destination.  Well, crap. It did start to snow and there was an accident and then on the way home it started snowing harder and the radio said there were lots of accidents. By this time I was driving out of it. But that was not really the cause of my initial grumpiness. Radio morning drive broadcasters have changed a lot since I would listen. At this time, the local station has a woman doing most of the talking in a fast, high-pitched voice and she has no partner with whom to banter back and forth width. The weather and road announcements are about 10 seconds long and ALL THE REST OF THE TIME, she does rapid fire commercials and repeated updates on the latest political results.  The My Pillow commercial made me want to suffocate the radio, but I was concerned there might just be a sentence that indicated I was heading right to an accident back-up.

That’s petty stuff, I know. I got back and then nodded off for a nap with dreams that were unsettling. I guess I should not have lipped off about the  “My Pillow”.

Then we had a computer-induced problem . . . and, of course, I had no butter cookies to ease my frustration. My 12 Step program is that  number of steps to get to the kitchen; it is not effective. Do not try it at home.

While I’m griping about my actually not a problem day, a relative was having a hip replacement and then facing rehab. Why did I not think, “Oh, I am so lucky to only have a computer prob instead of having my hip cut into and discomfort following.”

Actually, now that I have been writing about those cheap butter cookies, I have a faint memory of sticking a box in a hiding place two weeks before Christmas. Maybe it’s still there.