There are Days When…

Getting back to this personal blog again. Which means I will need to fix it. I have a bunch of broken links from the last time I moved things on my web host. I should also give it a change from the Spring daisy look, considering how much snow there is outside today.

But, today I already have a fairly good work load and don’t feel like doing much other than hiding indoors taking care of myself. I’ve got one of those shingle things again. Making me feel all over yucky and my eye is sore. I really need to get out to deliver paperwork and buy milk at the grocery store. I wish it was a short trip to one spot for both. But no. That would be too nice.

I am trying to think how I can accomplish everything in one place anyway, cheating in a kind of, sort of, way. I could mail the paperwork though it would arrive late. I could skip getting a coffee while I am out (though I have not had a bite of anything all day and I am getting hungry even though I don’t feel like eating). I could just go to the grocery store which is right on the bus route. If I rush the shopping I can meet the bus as it comes back on the next lap of the route and then I don’t need to pay an extra bus fare to get home.

But, it’s cold outside and I’d have to rush into my coat and boots to catch the bus now. Well, really, I have about 15 minutes, give or take due to snow and ice on the roads. So, really I do have enough time to catch the bus. I should stop being such a lemming and get out there and do it. I’m not even standing up yet though.

There are days when having a personal slave sounds like a really good idea.

A Quiet Afterwards Kind of Day

Garbage is getting picked up today. I didn’t think it would so I didn’t put it out. Not that I have a lot anyway. For Christmas I wasn’t home so all that wrapping isn’t in my recycling bins.

The best Christmas present I got were new warm socks. The kind that have rubber nubbins at the bottom so you can walk around the house with warm feet that don’t slip on the floors. A good thing here with all the hardwood. I also had two boxes of chocolates which I ate while being lazy playing computer games.

My brother may be over later today. I could get a lift to the grocery store to pick up some more milk. I’m almost out of it. But, I need to go out tomorrow anyway so I can always grab some then.

Not much else going on today.

Part of my Charm

Here I am, soon to be 45 and I can’t decide if I’m a witchy wise woman, a courtesan or a 1600’s era virgin, possible nun. I don’t know if I still blush but I feel self conscious and guilty every time I share my naughty thoughts, ideas and stories. As if that’s not something I should be doing. I would think at this age, after having been married, I would be beyond that. I guess not. Maybe it’s all just part of my charm.

Automatic Scans and Updates Really SUCK!

Shampoo build up sucks. It makes me feel grungy even though I just had a shower and shampoo last night. I will have to find a different shampoo. I used to get a lovely citrus one for occasions such as this. I haven’t seen that one for years though. I miss the great smell of it.

I am tired but have a lot to get done. My computer, however, has decided now is a great time to do some fricking scan or update on something. Last time it did this (when I actually let it run on) I was waiting over an hour. Why do they think this is a good idea? Don’t they understand that when I turn on the computer it is for the purpose of doing something with it. Something other than sitting here yelling at it about sucking and being sucking slow.

Urrrrggghhhh!

Hermitized!

When you really think about it some of the stuff we cook/ bake is really kind of odd. Who ever got the idea to wrap fruit up in sugar and dough and then bake it for an hour? If you had never eaten a pie, would that sound just great and delicious to you?

We will be doing the Canadian Thanksgiving this coming weekend. The pie baking has begun. From Friday until sometime late on Sunday the house will be full of people. Times like these make me wonder if I was really meant to be a hermit. I know I’m not the social butterfly type. But, I never feel more like disappearing through a crack in the floor than when I am surrounded by family. Mostly they mean well. Mostly they don’t feel any need to censor themselves. Mostly they seem to look at me as if I’m the goodie goodie version of the black sheep of the family.

Anyway, enough about that.

Would you like to be a hermit? I think I would not like the grubby part of it. I’d rather have a shower, a hot one. I’d rather have lovely scented soap and shampoo. But it would be nice to be alone. There is something about being alone that makes me feel myself.

Oh Goodie Goodie

It’s very unfair. We have those tiny tomatoes growing in the garden, they are just now all ripening up and are so juicy and warm from the sun, like biting into summer (only the good edible parts). But, each time I have a few of those tomatoes I feel sick, like I’m getting a the flu, that night and the next day. It is very unfair. I love those little tomatoes. I ate almost a dozen of their little red, orange and yellow bodies this afternoon and now I feel yucky, shivery and cold. Bleh. I still don’t think I can give up eating the tomatoes. Let them punish me for it.

Tomorrow I am babysitting again. Did I mention that my sister is due to pop out another baby in November/ December. As much as I like seeing the kids, especially Zack who started high school this year, I am tired of babysitting. Mostly, I am tired of her house. It is a dump and they seem to not even notice it. When I came over last week she told the girls to clean up cause I was there. She had been home all day but didn’t think to clean up because that is what people should do! No, it’s only because I’m queen bitch who will throw away all their toys and stuff. Get real. I told one of the girls that instead of bringing a garbage bag for all their stuff I wish I just had a blow torch instead. Would be much easier to clear a path through all the crap at the front door that way. I really am that fed up with it all. People who can’t train their children to be something more than feral animals should not be having another baby.

I know she has businesses to run. I know she sees herself as a business woman/ career goal minded. But, then, logically you don’t have four children set lose to fend for themselves. Know yourself. If you aren’t Mother material don’t keep popping them out thinking other people will do the job for you.

I do like the children, I’m not completely evil. Just annoyed, mostly just annoyed. I know when I am there tomorrow the floor of the entryway will be covered in coats, boots, books, games, assorted clothing, toys and other mindless debris. Plus the fish dying quietly in the fishtank placed right at the door for some odd reason. Then the kitchen, dishes and food left out all over the counters. The table will be coated in crayons, papers and assorted other remnants of the feral animals who live and eat there.

I’m sick of being the one who has to bitch those kids around into cleaning up after themselves. I don’t even see the point of doing so any more. Each week it is the same. They do not change, they do not learn and they certainly have proven that they do not care. I’m fed up with caring, with being told I’m a bully and being made to feel that is true. I really could cheerfully set fire to the lot of it. Just as the sleeve of my sweater caught fire for a second tonight when I moved the broccoli off the jet on the oven. (I blew it out and there is only a scorch mark on my sweater which was already one of my rag bag sweaters just for wearing around the house when I work, not a great loss).

Anyway, I can at least look forward to taking Zack out shopping for some school supplies tomorrow. Odd you may think that school has been started a few weeks ago and wouldn’t his parents have already checked that he has what he needs. Why, no. My Mother and I bought him most of his school clothes for starting high school. My other sister, the redhead took him shopping downtown and bought some expensive jeans and a shirt. His parents attended the meeting at the school for parents and gave him the money he needed for a student card which the school asked for. That’s about it. I know she loves her children, she just seems to be attending the school of Don’t Bother. The same school my Father attended all my life and likely his own.

Has this been enough of a bitchy whine? I could go on. I’m kind of tired though and I have to get up early to babysit. Goodie goodie.