Tag Archives: random

What I learned this week Nov 4-10

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I’ve just now, just this instant, come up with an idea for a new weekly post. And now you get to see if it is worth a shit or not! Introducing:

What I Learned This Week.

I learned via the blog that I’m not as weird as I thought I was. Or, I learned that I know and like a lot of weird people. I’m guessing it’s a bit of both.

I learned that raw pumpkin in its natural state rots fast – but if it is cooked it a bit to get the skin off, you’ve got another week before you have to freeze it.

I learned my mother-in-law has room in her freezer for a ton of pumpkin.

I learned that eating too many roasted pumpkin seeds gives me a tummy-ache and a sore tongue from the shells and salt.

I learned that if you goose Lokii when he is all hunched up, low to the ground, ears flat, butt-a-wigglin’, ready to attack something (be it a toy, a ball of paper, his brother, or something only he can see), he will forget that he was about to attack. I totally expected that when he was so focused he would jump a mile.

I learned to be super-careful wearing the new socks with built-in soles that hubby bought me. I didn’t smash my face when tripping up the stairs, but only a fast elbow jammed into the baluster saved my nose (I was carrying something and only had one hand).

I learned that it worries me more when I don’t want to bitch to my best friend. She’s not judgemental: it isn’t her. But if I start closing myself off from her…well, that can’t be good. Or maybe I’m sick of hearing myself whine. Hmm, maybe I didn’t learn anything there, yet.

I learned that my dog has started shitting in the middle of the lawn, instead of just around the edges. Ick.

I learned the new John Irving book is too much like his others. I’m sad about that.

I learned that my coworkers had no idea who I would prefer to win in the US presidential election.

I learned that people here ask me, very cautiously, thinking they are being clever: ‘who do you want to win?’ because they are totally going to judge me on my answer.

I learned I always gave the answer they were relieved to hear. But I’m a bit sad that they ever thought I might be for the other guy.

I learned yet again that people can be cruel on the Internet. Even when apologies are offered and explanations given.

I learned not to look in the shopping bags until after hubby finishes unloading the car. Dangerous new socks were supposed to be for me, for Christmas.

I’d like to learn why Lokii is currently upstairs saying mmm, mmmm, mmm, mmmm, over and over and over…

I feel weird

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I’m outside, in the shivery cold, wearing two shirts, my ‘smoking jacket’, sweats, socks and slippers. The moon is bright and directly in front of me, and I hear nothing but car tires whispering in the distance, an occasional bird who hasn’t realised that it is dark out, and a few thumps and bumps from the neighbours’ house.

It’s quiet because iDJ isn’t here and so there is no music playing – for a change. You have no idea how much I appreciate a non-musical interlude. He’s off buying me cream for my coffee and taking a brand new PC to its new owners – he does computer work on the side and fuck me but it took hours to set up a brand new Dell out of the box. Crazy. Hope he gets some cash for this. (Edit – he did)

Thumps and bumps are because we live in a semi-d. I share a wall with strangers. Well, not that we don’t ever talk but we have SFA in common, other than a dislike for the new neighbours in the estate who leave their yappy dog out all day and all night and never ever make it shut the hell up.

I smell the smoke of fires, mine and theirs – mine is coal and turf briquette, theirs is wood. The air is still enough that the smoke sifts down to me where I sit in the patch of light coming through our sliding glass doors. Shivering.

I don’t want to go in, even if I have a fire waiting. Outside it’s dry, and not windy, and my back feels ever-so-much better if I sit up straight in my Coleman camp chair. Sitting properly is something I do not do when huddled in front of the fire trying to blow my nasty cigarette smoke up the chimney.

I think I’m getting something. A cold, the flu, a bad reaction to having infected teeth. I haven’t been ill in over a year – I forget what the signs are. I feel weird. Stuffed up, but totally able to breathe through my nose. Achy, but just my neck. Headachy, but I’m used to that. We will see. I have another cold sore. This makes two in three weeks. A sure sign my resistance is low and I’m fighting off some horrible nastiness. For me to admit I don’t feel ‘right’ at all probably means I have something seriously wrong. Heh. Not. Heh.

We got free fish today. A friend of iDJ’s brought us cleaned and filleted mackerel. I don’t cook fish, I haven’t the talent. I leave eggs and fish to himself; he has the touch. I was mostly annoyed that I have to wash a raw-fish smelling bowl, and felt a bit odd that we were getting free meat out of the boot of a taxi. I guess that’s my do-something-for-the-first-time observation for the day.

A not new thing I’ve been wanting to mention is something that happens daily on my drive in to work. Same road, same time, every morning, I meet a school bus coming the other way. The bus-driver lifts a hand from the wheel and greets me. Every day.

How cool is that? I don’t know him, I don’t live in that town, and I don’t have kids on his bus. He knows my car and knows I’m there, and gives a little hello. I love Ireland. I would never get that in the States. I give it back, of course. Two ships vehicles passing in the night morning. It cheers me as I sit in my little blue and white box, music (that I love, a rarity) so loud I can’t hear my own engine, on my way to another day of work. I look forward to seeing that bus coming at me.

Himself is home, and the dog is tap-dancing in glee and the cats are talking to him – because he talks back, of course. I expect the music to start any second now, he’s standing at the Mac…

More snooze alarming

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I don’t know what’s going on with me lately, but I have some serious thoughts in the 10-minute snooze gap. I’m sort of half-awake, half-hallucinating, half-intellectual, half-bad at mathematics.

Today I wondered if digital clocks have any internal parts that rotate. If they do, what direction do they turn? Are they still really digital if the rotation is clockwise? Is it still really a clock if the turn is anticlockwise?

No wonder I never hit snooze more than once a morning.

Ooo.

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I have no idea where I’m going with this post so bear with me! Just again feel the need to write, to reach out, and see what happens.

First off I use the WP app to write new posts – rarely for comments – so it was a surprise to realise the update I downloaded over the weekend made a lot of changes. Hence the ‘ooo.’ There’s all kinds of swiping and whatnot instead of the Microsoft-training we all have of closing or ‘x-ing’ out of something. And man, just then: attempting to get the iPad to accept x-ing was a trial… Second time, it’s a winner! I love this stupid thing.

Stupid thing is now a year old! My iPad is a year old. I never wanted it, never even considered it as something I would need. And now? Like a Texan’s firearm, you’ll have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands. Yes, I’m teasing my Texas friends here – I seem to have quite a few and none of you fit that stereotype; I know it well but had to poke fun. Feel free to tease me for being a southerner myself, or an Irish drunk with a bad temper! Apparently I am both. Well, part Irish. I do say I’ve taken to the drinking aspect of the culture quite nicely. And I was born in NewJersey – go have a look on a map where the Mason-Dixon line was! Sigh. I can still speak ‘southrin’ any time I want, which entertains Irish people to a great extent. I think hubby only married me because I can do that. I need a south-Jersey refresher course, though – I end up sounding like Tony Soprano when I try. The bad temper is never going away.

What was I talking about? Meh, who cares. I have sunshine again, on a Monday.

And beer.

Woot!

Wait I need a fresh one. At least I’m not abandoning my empties in the grass like I did on Friday. Man, it was so hot that day my sweat smelled of beer. It might tomorrow at work. Whoops. I better switch back to rum and Pepsi Max after this one. It’s just…beer and sunshine are made for each other. I remember the day I discovered Sam Adams Cherry Wheat beer. I’m not usually a big fan of wheat beer but it was a hot day and I had plenty of them in the fridge, and sun and heat and no where to be. I reeked of cherries. It came out of my pores everywhere, liked I’d bathed in cherry skin-cream. Sort of gross, but by then I really, really, didn’t care.

And that wasn’t even the day I broke my pinky toe by sitting in the sun, drinking, and holding my pee so long that when I finally had to get up – about four or five beers later – I smashed my foot into some stairs and aw, first broken bone ever. I was close to 30 if not past it by then. Probably past it. Wonder if beer makes your bones weak? Or if having a massive-capacity bladder does? Ah well. I broke the same toe about 10 years later, just doing my usual tripping over nothing. Sober (ish) that time. Fun times… sad thing is, I used to be able to wiggle my pinkie toes independent of the rest of my toes, as a party trick, and that one doesn’t bend much any more.

Damn you, cloud, go away!

Better go back and reread and see if I have any point here today…

Ooo. Just hit preview and I have no paragraphs. That is bad…this stream of consciousness style of writing depends on visual breaks or I sound like I’m insane. Which is quite likely but I’m usually good at hiding it better. With paragraphs.

Man that cloud is annoying. Just wide enough to block my sunshine and make me cold. Go away, go away faster! Yes I see you moving, but move faster! And you! you, trailing behind! Move upward. Spiders need solar power.

Right, well, it appears I have nothing to say of any real import. I’m trying, I’m reaching out, because I’m in a good mood today and lately I haven’t been anywhere near a good mood. I’m doing my best to keep up a dialogue and even if it is me talking shite via writing, I imagine you listening and I don’t feel so alone.

Now if that second big-ass cloud would just move it along a bit, I’ll be happy…OMG still no paragraph breaks. Time to go find the help on this new app… Sorry… Will edit afterward so I make a modicum of sense.

I’m in a Good Mood… Should I be Worried?

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I finally have had the time and motivation to read posts from blogs I follow, and comment, and I’m also goofing around on a few FB feeds, and in general I have a big stupid smile on my face.

It feels a bit strange, I haven’t had one of these things on my mug for a while! But, of course, I wouldn’t be me unless I dissected why it is, exactly, that I am in a good mood…

Now, before you go thinking that I’ve turned all sappy and soft and that this is going to be a list of stuff that I’m grateful for – well, it might be. I’m cheerful! It’s rare! But HEY! I’m not soft and sappy so just shut that train of thought down, ok?

Right! Easy one: it’s Friday, and I don’t have to go anywhere until tomorrow night, and I don’t have to go to work for two whole days which means I don’t have to get depressed again until mid-afternoon on Sunday.

Tomorrow I get to go to a housewarming party which I am looking forward to immensely. People I like, a comfortable flat, a greyhound and a kitty to play with, and iDJ doing the tunes! Oh, and home-cooked fooooooood. All-around winner!

The happyish feeling of having caught up, a bit, with what is going on in everyone else’s blogworld. I went away, mentally, for a bit there. I didn’t want to comment or read anything, and I didn’t much feel like changing that situation. I think I’ve staved (stiven? No. But it should be a word) that off for now. I’m glad to be back and interacting again. Hopeful that this carries on.

I made a really, really, bad joke tonight that not even I laughed at. I didn’t laugh because I was amazed at my own brilliance at such short notice. I boggled at my own wit. Someone had to, other than my hubby who didn’t laugh either, but actually clapped. I’m not sure what that means, as he gets the brunt of my fast-thinking humour – unlike this writing kinda humour that requires me to think and spell at the same time.

He said I did a bad job of posting my hilarity on FB, so here’s the long version: he was nattering away about electronics needed for tomorrow night’s housewarming gig, and I was sort of listening but not really understanding much of what he was saying. He talks a lot, and I’m not a DJ. He just needs to say it out loud to get it clear in his head, and I don’t even smile and nod any more… Eventually he lost interest himself in what he was saying and noticed that Lokii was sitting next to my leg and licking himself.

Imagine, if you can, my Irish hubby speaking in a Beavis or Butthead voice: ‘Heh. Lokii’s licking his ass.’

I looked down. Lokii was not licking his ass.

“He’s licking his elbow.”

Small pause.

“Are you telling me you can’t tell his ass from his elbow?”

Drumroll, hi-hat crash, I rock. Thank you, I’ll be here all week!

With a big stupid smile on my face, hopefully.

Random 3

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About seven years ago, I noticed that I had one really, really, long arm hair.

I named it Harvey.

And Harvey was my friend until he disappeared one day.

I just noticed that he is back, if not quite as long as he was back then. Still, he’s near about two inches long – which is pretty impressive for a fine blonde hair.

I might be starting to understand why old men let their ear hairs grow.

Wonder if they name them.

Random One

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I had no idea that Cee Lo Green was a woman. And I’m glad. I’ve heard the name, and think it belongs to a musician, but never saw her until just now because she apparently has a cat.

I kind of like my priorities in this case: cats over crappy modern music.

I still think ‘Cee Lo Green’ sounds like a male gangsta rapper, though.

Gearing up for Halloween!

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I’m sitting here with a smile on my face. It’s such a nice feeling. This is why I love Halloween!

iDJ and I spent about an hour this eve when he got home from work sorting through clothes for his costume. It got a little stressful, as nothing was working right. His stonewash jeans were too tight, and he needed something 80’s on his legs. What to do? Ah, trust in the resources of the SpiderQueen.

I found a pair of leggings in fabulous colors, and made him try them on. Oh, perfect! His legs look fantastic. He put on the boots he wanted to wear, and I quickly sorted out a shirt and the accessories to make a perfect 80’s costume. It says a lot about me that I actually still own clothes from 1985. Says even more that I can recreate the ‘look’ we wanted so easily. So he’s sorted, except for his hair and makeup tomorrow.

Except… for his junk.

He’s wearing tight leggings. Men are not meant to wear leggings. Especially not with just a t-shirt to cover their ‘bits.’ I told him that he was in charge of figuring out what undies to wear – he’s a boxers man – how? I don’t know. Nor do I want to see the experiments.

But! He posts this on FB:

Note: he always carries a man bag for his gear – another gender stereotype shattering difference I forgot yesterday! He has a ‘murse’; I hate handbags and refuse to carry one.

iDJ: My good lady had me play dress up earlier so my costume is sorted. Now if only I can figure out where to stash my junk…
Me: Oh my god. I can not believe you said that! Right, I’m going to have to buy you something that doesn’t show off your junk so well!
iDJ: Camera, phone, wallet with no money, hip flask, bible – that junk!
Me: Oh. Right.

Of course the facebook feed has gotten worse from there. We all knew he wasn’t talking about his iPhone! Braggart. I have no idea how to keep my pictures of tomorrow from being nearly pornographic.

To get our collective brains back into happy-land, here’s Dogzilla dressed as Spider-Man:

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I spent nearly two hours working with my mask today. It doesn’t fit well, and I have to wear a wig, too. The mask has to be glued into place, and I’ll need to blend makeup to cover the bare skin. I’m not a fan of masks, but this one is in two parts with the chin separate so my mouth will work as loudly as normal. The functional mouth was very important because I refuse to drink Guinness out of a straw. So, there was trimming, and fitting, and more trimming… and I found out that my liquid latex has gone hard and mostly unusable, so the edges of the mask will be really obvious, dammit. Also, I have clown white but no black, and I need to blend in grey makeup to match the mask. Bummer. A shopping trip that includes me is scheduled for tomorrow, but I can’t get proper professional quality makeup locally.

I’ve not even sorted my clothing yet. Uuuurgh. But really, I love Halloween!

A final note, if you’ll permit. I’m a terrible self-promoter, I couldn’t sell heaters to Eskimos. However, in keeping with the Halloween theme, I’d like to give you directions to the MP3 podcast of iDJ’s Halloween radio show. It is 2 hours, recorded live last night, and really, really, good. You’ll get my references to Glen Campbell yesterday better, too. Go here: http://bit.ly/vJS8fD and, if you want the playlist first or after listening, go here: http://bit.ly/ts8gXY

You’ll hear himself talking every half hour or so, getting progressively drunker and happier as he goes. That’s normal for his show 🙂

Halloween costumes and gender stereotypes, with random BS

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Hi, and welcome back to another instalment of the continuing saga, “….

Nope, I got nothing. My blogging friend Michael could come up with something, I’m sure.

I’m a bit at loose ends tonight, as my BFF Socks has family over and isn’t available for our usual phone call. I know she’s having a great time, though, and not even I can begrudge her that. We’ve planned a conversation tomorrow, but it must needs be cut short due to my needing to assemble Halloween costumes.

My costume is mostly make up – well, actually, glue-on, good quality prostheses I bought in the US last year- and those terrifying New Rock boots I mention in my ‘about’ page. But iDJ – well. I am gonna have soooo much fun with him. I refuse to give it away, but we came up with a costume that utilises his beautiful, arse-length blonde hair. It also involves make up, but more like lipstick and eyeshadow rather than greys and blacks.

Despite us being married for over 6 years, he still gets called gay because of the hair. The hair I love. The hair that suits him. When they see him in costume (called ‘fancy dress’ here) on Saturday, they will say it even more. The thing is: only a man secure in his gender preference is comfortable enough to dress so oddly (and no, he’s not going to be in drag). So, you small town, insecure, gender-preference-repressed name callers – eat it and weep. He’ll be awesome, and he gets to come home with me.

I will post pictures. I know I’ll be unrecognisable, and he will likely be, too. I say that, because I’m still debating on keeping the blog anonymous. I think I have four out of 11 followers who don’t know me in ‘real life.’ However, I’ve not said the horrible things I thought I might say when I first started the blog. I was in such a dark place, I figured it would be non-stop bitching about everything. Instead, it turns out this thing helps me see the humor in my life, and makes me appreciate the little things more.

I also think I appreciate the bigger small things more, like my KIBIS nights. We did have one this week, not at my house but at MrsMMC’s apartment. We voted to include another member, but we didn’t say who was going to invite her… oops. Is that my job? I’m not going to detail the evening, but some things we talked about are things I want to ramble on about here, and I’ll give a KIBIS-mention when I get a round tuit.

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Yes, I know that is an old, bad joke. It makes me think of my dad, though. He had one of these, and he loves an old, bad joke as much as I do. Hell, my whole family loves stupid jokes. Would you like two that came from my great-grandmother, on my mother’s side? No? Tough. Please note, these jokes have to be over 150 years old, passed down over the generations.

What are the three dirty parts of the stove? Lifter leg and poker.

What are the three naughty vegetables in the garden? Lettuce turnip and pea.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Right, what next? If I hadn’t segued into bad jokes and KIBIS, I might have said some things about the seeming gender confusion in my household. That is completely the wrong term, of course. Stereotype shattering is a better term.

An example from right now! He is live on the air, playing his Internet radio show. Tonight is Halloween themed. He was playing a song that is new to me, and I like it a lot (a rarity, I’m picky). Afterward, he (was) is playing Glen Campbell, Ghost on a Canvas. He told me that he’s snuffling back tears because Glen has Alzheimer’s, and his memory only comes back for his songs, not his family or friends. So, Glen is now a ghost himself. Aw. (iDJ also said the two songs before the one I like made him weepy.)

Me? I’m considering deleting the part of my post yesterday where I admitted to feeling anything.

Okay, back to fun examples of why we are so good, and so odd, together.

He loves to shop for clothes. He knows labels, what is hot, what is classic, what isn’t worth the trouble and why. He always has, and spent hundreds on a single jacket or pair of jeans back in the day of the Irish Punt.

I don’t know, nor do I care, about labels or what is in fashion or cool, except to avoid what is trendy. I buy based on three things:
Is it an acceptable price for what it is?
Is it ‘classic’? Meaning, it better not be a trend and I’ll look like a twat next year because I’m not doing this shopping shit again any time soon if I can help it.
Does it look good on me?
Sometimes there is a no. four: is it so totally awesomely tacky that I cannot live without it?

iDJ is a shoe freak. Sneakers, trainers, whatever you want to call them. His passion is to re-buy all the trainers he had as a kid; sadly thwarted due to me not having any income. The good part about this is that he shops well. TK Maxx, aka TJ Maxx, is the best for inexpensive cool shoes. Even better is that after he checks the selection in his size he looks at my size, and has gotten me some really cool rare kicks. Oh lordy, he’s rubbing off on me.

Enough about clothing, it’s boring.

Next is, of course, that his hair is loooooooong. He’s not a metalhead, and doesn’t want to be taken for one. Hipster is more his style. Yes, he even wears cardigans. But, he has no piercings or tattoos and doesn’t want any. I have 3 tats, want another, and my ears are punctured 4 times left, once right. All my tats are on my left, too, it’s a thing with me. No, I don’t know why.

Last one, then I’m done, honey, I promise.

He drives a MINI Cooper. I drive a Harley-Davidson Sportster.

Because this has gone on long enough and I have to end on a high note, don’t I? A thing i am very happy indeed about: He isn’t threatened, is indeed relieved, to let me do most of the mechanical repairs and assembly around the house. I love putting together flat-pack!

I be a thrifty bitch

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I don’t have a particular topic tonight. I have so very, very much in my head – especially at 6am when the cats have woken me up and I can’t read in bed because my optimum iPad placement is impossible due to iDJ actually using his pillow as a pillow, instead of as a prop for my machinery (the nerve of the man) and having an iPad fall over and clunk into my forehead as I drift off is not only painful but isn’t conducive to sleep – but at 9:30pm, the weight of the day is heavy upon me and I can’t seem to think clearly.

Hence, me spitting out a massive run-on sentence that includes both dashes and parentheses.

I do wish that I could get up and write during those early morning brainstorms. There’s no way I’m trying it without coffee, or at the very least chocolate milk while the coffee brews. It feels traitorous, slackeresque, to get up and play in the dark when I know damn well I have to have 8 hours sleep or I will be useless. Then again, once the job listings have been checked and discarded, I am useless during the day.

During my extended unemployment I have tried not to goof off during the daylight hours. I’ve done a ton of things, some fun, some not, but all things that were needed around the house. I’ve done a ton of painting (fun) and when we got a pressure washer on the cheap, I couldn’t wait to blast the concrete patio, walls, and windows (massive fun, but really bad for my back). It’s wet here, there’s moss and mould growing on everything, and cleaning things to the point of new gives me great satisfaction. Fun and messy!

I’ve also fixed the sticky oven door, and scraped years of goop off the top of the stove (it came with the house, that shit was burned on). I installed new taps in the bathroom, too! They aren’t tight, so when you shut the tap off the whole thing moves, but that’s because it took me a whole damn day to put them on and I don’t have the right tools to tighten them up.

My best ‘save’ was when our microwave died. I found a fantastic redneck on YouTube that told me how to fix them, so I took it apart. There were a few things that could be wrong, but first and cheapest was to see if the internal fuse had blown. We went back to the shop we got it from five years ago and asked if they had fuses for that model. We were told that if the fuse had blown, there was something wrong and we should just get a new one. Saaaaay, that reeked of shite to us. “Oh, a fuse in my house blew, I need a new house now!” Feic off. To the Internet we went, and got a fuse from Scotland for about €12 delivered. I popped the old one out, wires and all, put in the new one – and it is still working. A couple of weeks later, the door fell off. I superglued it, it’s still grand. Saved a couple hundred Euros there!

When the dryer broke (also just five years old, are we seeing the planned obsolescence time frame yet?) we took it apart too, but getting a new motor was the same price as a new machine with a warranty, so we had to eat that one. At least we tried.

The fridge is a massive POS, we can’t get replacements for the busted freezer drawers anywhere. I can NOT deal with them, I completely lose my head, patience, and will to live when I need something from the freezer section; so that is iDJ’s job. He whines like a sick dog when his widdle finners get cold, too. Awww. He knows well that cold fingers are preferable to my searing hot rage.

Thanks, punkin’. 😀

I am a thrifty bitch by nature and nurture. When you have more time than money, you teach yourself whole new skills, and new ways of doing things. I make candles out of the crummy ends of ones we bought, I recycle and compost, I’d rather grow from seed than buy a plant. I save every-bloody-thing that might come in use, one day – and I keep a mental catalogue of the crap I have to hand. Just this week, I repainted our styrofoam headstones. These are Halloween decorations that are a few years old and constantly battered by the winds we have this time of year – we find them in the neighbours’ gardens all the time, with chunks missing and the white showing through. Well, hell, that’s not scary!

I’ve been different levels of broke most of my life, but I have a family history of cheap, too. My grandfather used to come to our house on Sundays. He’d be there for lunch and dinner, and drive himself back home. He would eat lunch, and then carefully fold up and pocket the single, non-brand paper napkin Mom had given him. He took it back out and used it again at dinner. Yikes! I really hope I never get that bad.

I wonder if he took it home with him…