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Seems there isn’t anything in the house I won’t fight with.
Friday night saw me rumbling with the washing machine, begging the vacuum cleaner to just suck up some dirt, and hassling the fridge to speed up on the ice making.
We were hosting the monthly poker party. Two tables. Munchies, drinks, and bring your own chairs. Tradition continued with the host loosing the most and me snickering off in the corner.
Saturday saw me take on a pinball machine and loose. I have the bruises to show for it. I didn’t so much as drop the machine as lead it in a controlled fall to the floor with me under it. The silly thing actually punched me in the jaw. I can just imagine explaining the lovely full techno-color bruises to my co-workers. Not to mention the swollen jaw. I’ll be getting a few concerned looks and the number to the nearest battered woman’s shelter.
Today the vacuum cleaner just wouldn’t work. It seems it took offense to the combo of long hair and new carpet. After 45 minutes and parts all over the front porch, it was clean. Carpet fuzz all over me, but at least the machine was happy.
I won’t even go into the Battle of the Clogged Drain. It makes my SO gag. I just pulled about 2 feet of stuff out of the shower drain. What a wuss…
Life goes on.
Ciao
Ever be relaxing with friends and tell a story you think is hilarious only to realize you’ve made a possible social faux pas?
We were in the midst of a marathon beach puzzle telling childhood stories and I mentioned my Dad the “Puzzle Master”. Just talking about technique and his patience with us kids as we ‘helped’ him. I busted out in giggles. ‘What! What!’ ‘Share, share.’ So I did…
My parents relationship was marginal at the best of times. One day my mom got so frustrated with my dad, she sucked up his puzzle with the vacuum cleaner.
This puzzle was a 25,000 piece green-on-green behemoth of some Aztec carving covered by moss. It had taken up residence on the kitchen table, frustrating my mother who had to constantly work around it and Dad in her kitchen. So one day in a fit of rage, my mother sucked it up with the vacuum cleaner.
After I told this story, the room was deadly quiet. I had forgotten to ‘nice up’ the story. The wheels turned, slipped, and as it so often happens, they did it for themselves. The subject was changed and everyone a little relieved, started talking once again.
I’ve spent most of my life a little off the beaten path, very aware that we never really know what goes on in someone else’s head.
Ciao
I’m bummed. No other way to describe it.
Lately I’ve been walking around with that nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’ve not said anything “right” in days and have been getting weird looks at work. “Change is good”, keeps shouting a voice in my head. Why is change good? Why can’t I go to my favorite restaurant and find my favorite dish? Why can’t I expect Thanksgiving dinner to be the same enjoyable way it has been for the last 5 years? Why can’t my job be challenging and happy like it was last year? Why every time I wonder why, am I listed as a stick in the mud? Ever notice that change is only good to the changer not the changee?
Laundry is calling…
Ciao
When do we loose that joy of life? The laugh that little kids have at the pure joy of walking. When do we begin to creak when we walk? Ache when we walk? Groan when we try to get out of a chair?
Over the last few weeks, I swear my warranty has expired on my body. Betrayed by back pain, allergies, and just plain general malaise. How did I let myself get to this state of disrepair?
It isn’t all bad but I often think of the comedian that said, “Why are people shocked when they look in the mirror and suddenly see a change?” “It’s not like you go to bed and wake up fat!”
Life comes at you fast. You might want to duck.
Back to doing stretching exercises and worrying about salt intake. Ciao
Why are the bananas in my homemade rum floating? They started the day at the bottom of the bottle and now are floating gently to the top.
Ciao
Thoughts of an Old Fart 