iDJ is off work this week. We’d rather he wasn’t, but as a reward for his company doing the best out of a large group of companies, everyone is forced to take one week a month off. This means unemployment also known as the dole, or in Cockney rhyming slang: the rock and roll. He’s been taking his week as holiday pay so he gets a full pay check. Sorry, cheque. Ugh, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that spelling. It’s not like we are going anywhere on holidays, after all.
Last time he was off, he learned just how little gets done in a full day at home. Made me feel a bit better. This week, he’s trying to be more productive. It didn’t hurt that he found me already hard at it when he woke up yesterday. I think it put him into work-mode.
He cut the grass. It looks worse now than it did before. Hacked, wet, and uneven. Bare patches of mud that had been covered by the blowing blades are now uncovered by the mowing blades. Even the mower itself was embarrassed by the job it did, and tried to hide at the scene of the crime.
Yuck. I cleaned it off and tried to console it: the grass was too wet, you did your best, not your fault. Then I repeated my platitudes to iDJ, but I think I felt more sorry for the mower.
Then, since it was nice out, he decided to grill. Out came the Weber for pre-cleaning.
Oh dear lord, what in the hell happened here? It’s been so damp this year that fuzzy grey mold was growing inside the grill. Not just on the grate, but on the unused charcoal. Barfola, as we said in the eighties. I’m very happy this is his toy and I didn’t have to help, other than fetching a bucket of hot water and a scrubber, and to bitch when he spilled filthy muck on the concrete instead of into the drain.
I think he got it going by five, and by then it was getting pretty dark. I hid inside next to the fire while he cooked. Sorry, dear, I’m not freezing my tookus off just to give moral support. It was cold enough that he put on fingerless gloves, and dark enough that he couldn’t see the smoke drifting up. He smoked his eyes. Repeatedly. Until they were blood-red.
Which meant funtime for me, as I had to administer the eyedrops. He gets freaky when you go near his eyes. It was easier to give the dog eyedrops when she needed them. She didn’t struggle or whine nearly as much.
It was an interesting read, very funny sometimes but I feel for you, all the effort of that day, you must have been tired.
Not at all! So very little happens to me in a day, you get to hear nearly all of it 🙂 Imagine if you wrote out everything you did in a day, it would be pages and pages!
Me? nope, maybe sometimes. As for Usyaka – yes, definitely. 🙂
You’d be surprised – I sure was. This blog has allowed me to find joy and interest in everyday things. I started it expecting to talk about how much I hated everyone and everything, because I was in a dark place. But even a short walk into town is an adventure if you think about it as something to write about. I’m a much happier person lately, all due to being able to foist my random thoughts on others!
I absolutely know what you mean. I had a few places online where I did the same ( Usyaka’s blog is strictly about Usyaka) and I know the feeling. Writing things down allows you to see things differently and treat them differently. It feels like almost magic and yet it’s something you yourself create.
If anything above sounds like nonsense, please forgive me. It’s too late here.
What is that thing? Fred Flintstone’s lawn mower?
Pretty much! It does the job, requires no gas or oil, and requires little maintenance.
I actually never cared for writing my daily life down. I’ve lived it, and not it’s not worth writing about, too boring. (In my mind) Which is why I have a blog I’ve not touched in months and a LJ I haven’t touched in over a year. I just don’t feel like talking about myself. But then I did start my blog meaning to old post about my morbid things, which is limiting. How many times can someone reason about peroxide-ing skulls?
I’m always worried that Kent feels I don’t do enough in the day. But I’ll get up and then spend almost the whole time doing stuff. Not that you can tell by looking.
I used to think so, but I was bitchy all the time and writing it out lets me see the humor instead. I’ve changed a lot since I started this thing! Much more pleasant to be around.
I will sometimes journal if I’m really mad or upset about something I can do nothing about. Like a situation that happened with a friend. I was hurt, and sad and lost and writing it down seems to help me work it out. Right now I think it would all be sad and negative, and I don’t really need to keep that around.