I found this in the bin at work.
I’m going to have to title this after I’m done rambling. My brain is all over the shop! Probably I should break this up and do a few posts rather than dumping everything in my noggin out on the screen and stirring it up to see what rises to the surface.
I’m going crack open my egg and get out a big wooden spoon to see what happens, anyway.
I had to come to a first-gear-and-hazards-on stop this morning on the way into work, as there was a cow in the road. I immediately learned that they don’t like being honked at – said cow jumped from the side of the road to directly in front of my car. When you drive a Mini, a cow is huge! Hmm. How is the farmer going to know they lost a coo if I don’t honk my horn? Cow is now looking for food on the centre line of the asphalt…honk! Whew, I only had to go entirely into potential oncoming traffic to creep past.
Think my use of hazard lights caught on – the car behind me did the same. I used them again to warn a car coming the other way, too. Irish life!
I am still irritated over some jackass who tried to troll me on FB. I know I did the right thing by not engaging, but the instinct for “I should have said” is strong in me. Probably because I was bullied so much as a kid. The great thing about the Internet is you have plenty of time to come up with those “I shoulda said’s”. The terrible thing about the Internet is that sometimes you have to still keep that shit to yourself as it isn’t worth it. I have no need to explain myself to an aggressive total stranger who took my words entirely out of context and called me an obnoxious narcissist with bad taste in music who bullies others and looks down on other cultures. No, no I do not – nothing I could have said was going to change his mind. But it still pisses me off to no end that someone thinks that about me – or said it to get a rise out of me.
I felt better for a while, and actually laughed when my only response was ‘Go troll someone else’ and his was ‘take your own advice’. Seriously, he pulled the kindergarten, “I know you are but what am I?” card? So very troll. Fuck him.
Just wish I wasn’t still thinking about it. Wonder if it is a form of PTSD? Not belittling PTSD, don’t get me wrong. It’s just … it’s been days; get out of my head already!
I changed the wiper blades on the car today. Why does that have to be so damn difficult? I can assemble furniture or anything IKEA like a boss – I repair all kinds of weird stuff at work that I’ve never seen before – but those tiny diagrams on the wiper blade box baffled me. I kept the crappy old blades in the car just in case I screwed it up – again. I already screwed it up once, and had to put the rotten one back on. The new bastard was whistling while wiping. Something so common should not take 20 minutes to do!
Right, I think that is enough. I’ll save the plant stuff for another day, when I’m not all stuck in my melon.
Probably not. Probably they have to ask everyone.
But it didn’t make me happy to be asked if I “want one of the lads to carry that out” just now at the shop. ‘That’ being a 24-pack of beer that I carried to the register in one hand, put on the belt with one hand, and carried out in one hand (until the plastic started to tear).
iDJ says they ask him the same question… so I shouldn’t be frowning right now, right? Or maybe they think he is old and weak, too? I somehow can’t see a 20-year-old lad getting asked the same question.
No blame to the clerk, no hatred and I didn’t throw a strop about it, of course. It’s just a little annoying.
This scene unfolded an hour or so ago. It happens a lot, but this time I managed to get a photo:
To give him some dignity – he was licking his leg, not his furballs!
I heard you!
Oh god shut up.
What? What do you want?
Anything, anything to make you shut up…
What do you want from meeeeee?!?
Ghastly word, “staycation,” isn’t it?
But still. I have the week off and unless the weather turns fan-fucking-tasctic, I’ll be mostly cleaning and sorting out my messy-ass house.
Today: took a shower. Sad that I have to put that there, but I hate them. It’s an achievement like the rest.
Cleaned the poop from the cat boxes and picked the dog poop out of the yard.
Found the smelly thing in the fridge and gagged twice before taking it outside. Finally! It’s been driving me crazy, that stank. Cleaned the whole fridge on Saturday and missed the rotten chicken somehow.
Went through my underwear/sock drawer and tossed a bunch of stuff. Didn’t toss it very far. Into the rag pile, because I can’t throw anything away. But I have a fun and thrifty and generous idea of what to do with the rags, so it’s all good.
Cleared and cleaned the top of my dresser. Damn but that took a long time. Soooo dusty and cluttered.
Vacuumed the bedroom, and mopped most of it. Didn’t get into the piles of crap on my side of the bed – because said piles aren’t of my crap. How many computers need to live in the bedroom!?!?
Cleared out the bathroom in preparation to wash the dog. She’s shedding again so it will be a furry mess when I get around to bathing her. Vacuumed and mopped, too – figured I might as well only have her wads of hair to clean up (rather than hers, mine, two cats’ worth, and of course hubby with the long golden locks).
Piled up more crap on the upstairs landing for sorting later.
Took pictures of today’s tigridia blooms. Killed the caterpillars on my now three? four? year old purple sprouting broccoli plant.
Vacced and mopped the stairs, piling even more crap onto the landing that was ‘meant to go up’ but never quite made it.
Cleared and vacced and mopped the entryway and hallway – and discovered a disgusting nest of clothes-eating moths. Seriously, pupae cases and caterpillar poop and all. Put every last scarf and glove into the wash. Sterilised the weird wooden thing we keep all the scarves and gloves in and put it outside to dry. Recycled old phone books, unwrapped new ones. Ignored the pile of crap on top of the bookcase that still needs sorted, but at least the front door opens all the way now.
Scrubbed the icky floor mat that sits inside the front door. Ewwwwww. That took ages, too.
Laundry was done but a glove sprung a thread-leak and turned the whole load into a massive tangle which had to be unknotted and then put on another spin – the knot made the load uneven and everything was still sopping wet. Hung it out on the line to be smoked by hubby’s BBQ later on. Meh, it might have helped.
Gave up on getting anything more done, and quickly (and badly) vacuumed the living room and kitchen to get the tumble-dogs off the floor.
Cracked a beer and sat down to relax before doing the dishes and bringing in the laundry off the line, and *sniff* – realised that I forgot to put on deodorant after my shower.
Ah well, I’ll probably need another shower after washing the dog anyway.
My summer-fruiting raspberries are now enjoying their second year in my garden, and we are enjoying them, too.
The birds can’t resist them either. The wee finches and sparrows and tits leave them alone. As do the giant crows and rooks and ravens. It’s the middle sized birds that found my bounty – starlings.
Luckily for me, the day they started to ripen I was asleep on the couch downstairs, just a few meters from the back door (sliding glass type). Spottie cat the mighty hunter saw the robbers and set up the alarum. Okay, actually? He went ‘mehmehmehmeh! ikikikikik!’ at them, and that woke me up. He did sound a bit different though, so I got up to see.
Dammit! I never thought I’d have bird troubles, and had no netting or anything else handy at 4:30 am to keep them away.
But I’m a quick thinker, and came up with a solution instantly. All I had to do was get my bare feet wet in the dew, and the problem was solved!
I have potatoes growing in a pot. First time I’ve tried it this way, but I’m sick to death of the taters I never planted coming up year after year in my small vegetable patch. Said patch is nothing but sage and oregano now – with the never-ending, never-able to fully dig out potatoes growing up amongst the uncountable stems and roots.
The ones in the pots were started from the eyes from store-bought spuds that I let get go to long before eating. I chopped those eyes out, left maybe a centimetre or quarter inch of potato ‘meat’ for sustenance, and put them on top of about an inch of compost. Once they started making leaves, I dumped in more compost. Repeat. The idea behind this is that potato plants will grow spuds all up their stem if the stems are buried as they grow taller. Supposedly. I’ll let you know in the autumn if it worked…
I rather slacked off on the ‘repeat’ part in the last two weeks, so this afternoon when I spotted the rounded side of a nice, fat, baby ‘tater emerging from the compost I figured it was past time for a dirt top-up. Then I looked again. It wasn’t a ‘tater!
A big snail had snuggled down into the dirt and under the shade of the leaves (probably to wait for darkness to start its evil plant-munching duties). I plucked it out of the dirt, meaning to toss it over the wall, safely away from my plants.
Something stopped my good right throwing arm; I held the snail, looking at the perfect camouflage sworls and swirls and zigzags on its shell. I removed the encrusted soil from its tightly-pulled-in foot. Then I set it on my hand, to see what would happen.
How odd that I want to spend a little more time with this invertebrate. It was really fascinating to watch, and the slime wasn’t a thing like what a slug leaves behind: it washed off right away. What is odder, perhaps, is that I’m pretty sure I would eat this critter. If I had a few dozen of its friends to make it worth my while. Maybe I’ll start an escargot farm! I only had escargot once, but I sure did love it. I like chewy, garlicky food.
Spot loves to be cuddled under my right arm when we (rarely) settle in front of the TV. His place, every time, is to be squished under my body and covered by my couch-blanket, head and all.
Well. Couch-blankie (crocheted by Socks and much beloved) has good-sized holes in it. Holes that just happen to be the perfect size to poke kitty-ears through.
So I did.
At work, we have a new parking lot. Less than a year old. It’s gravel, and had to be put in to keep us from parking where a big damn truck might hit our precious car. I park in it every damn day, because I’m the later shift and get there after everyone else.
I also sit out there for my lunch break, weather permitting. There is a raggedy chair that sits inside the back door. It seems to have no proper home in the, so I wheel it out and park it next to an air-conditioner that I use as a table. Classy! But private, for the most part, and I get the sunshine.
I see this stretch of gravel every day: sometimes four times a day, sometimes just twice. But definitely 10 times a week at the minimum.
Today when I went out for lunch, I saw something that caught my eye instantly. Can you see it?
Would you look at that! The most beautiful things can be right in front of you. You only have to really see when you look around. This seems to me a theme with me lately! I’m getting quite visual of late, since I let my meds run out (a tale of complaint for another day). No matter: I’m glad I was the one, the only one of the many many people who have walked on, driven over, spread, transported, and quarried this load of gravel that spotted and now cherishes this bit of beauty that was there all along.
Okay, confession time – I licked it to make it shiny for the last pic. I’m disgusting like that. Do you feel I’ve let the post down by showing off my blurry finger and my spit?
Meh, it had been in my pocket for a few hours, sure it was clean enough…