Crazy, But That's How It Is

I like getting those packs of sugar, salt, pepper, ketchup and vinegar from restaurants. Often I bring a few home from those fast food places that have them out for everyone to help themselves. I don’t take coffee creamers (past really bad experience with one of those quietly breaking, being forgotten and then really stinking up my purse). But, I take the others and I’m careful. Sometimes I still forget them for awhile, weeks even. But all those condiment things are really made to last now. I bet they will give that famous Twinkie and the cockroaches a run for their money eventually. Of course, that just makes you wonder why we eat them. (No, not the cockroaches, unless you like them in that way).

Anyway getting those little packs of condiments saves me buying the big containers for things I almost never use. I did break down and buy pepper though cause I have been going to town on tuna wraps and they just NEED pepper. But, I don’t use salt or sugar. Once, long ago, I was addicted to salt but that was when I could count my age on two hands. Nowadays I keep a bottle of ketchup in the fridge and a jug of vinegar in the cupboard cause they are good for somethings, not just edible things. Vinegar is an eco safe/ green cleaner and much cheaper than the other fancily packaged stuff. Ketchup… well ketchup is good to torment your brother with. Also handy for really sick April Fools jokes once a year. Not that I’d do something like that.

It’s not that I’m cheap entirely. I like that bit of the vagabond lifestyle. The idea that I’m living like someone who doesn’t have a lot of things tying them down and could pack up and move with just a moment’s notice. I think the best example of that was Madonna in Desperately Seeking Susan. That’s about all I remember from that movie, the lifestyle of the Madonna character.

Anyway, that’s about it for my thoughts for the day. I’m turning my brain down to low early tonight. Painters are supposed to be starting early on the upstairs and I plan to avoid being here for the aroma. I hope it is mostly dry and not so smelly when I get back. I’m allergic to fresh paint. I’m sure I wouldn’t care for having it wedged under my skin dry either but the fresh stuff really does mess me up. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. But, I hope it will be ok. They say it should dry quick cause it’s latex. I’ve heard that story before.

I will be away Thursday sometime. My Mom needs me to fix her computer. I wish she would try to learn how to run it herself. She does try for short periods of time but forgets everything by the next day. I don’t mind helping her but I feel guilty cause I’m not there to help her right now as if it’s all partly my fault. Crazy but that’s how it is.

The Trouble with Elephants

The elephants upstairs decided to have the music on really loud again tonight. I waited till after 9:00, nearly an hour after it began. In the meantime my brother phoned and said he could hear them from on the phone. He thought they were hammering something. But, no, they were just jumping around. He said he would call and tell them to tone it down. I don’t know if he did or not. But, a short time later the music started, LOUDLY.

I couldn’t hear the TV over it. Not that I have the TV loud as it was background while I was writing. Anyway, it was just after 8:00 and I decided to wait and see if they kept going after 9:00. They do have a little kid and it is a weekday for school. But, at 20 after 9:00 I was getting a headache. So I went up there and knocked on the door. No one answered. I knocked again. I knocked louder guessing they couldn’t hear over their own loud noise pollution. After waiting I banged on the door. After still waiting I banged again. Then I banged steadily for a longer period of time. No one answered even then. So I pounded on the door. No answer. I pounded again and finally George came to the door. He knew why I was there.

It’s not that they are consistently loud, just a few times that it has come to the point where I’ve become angry and gotten enough of a headache to go up there. George told me never to knock on their door again. He said it twice. That ticked me off. I’m still angry. I wouldn’t need to come up there if they didn’t create the problem. But, no problem. What George has not thought of is that I have the electrical power down here in the basement. I don’t NEED to knock on the door to get them to turn down the music. Moron! Next time I will just flip the switch and they can sit there in the dark and I can have the quiet.

I don’t mind shutting down the computer, I can go to bed early. When they come down here asking to be let in to turn the power on I will give him his own famous last words right back. “Don’t knock on this door again.” They are a month behind on the rent still. The brother (mine) is thinking to just pack it up and sell the house. Dumping them out. Me too. I don’t want to move again. But, I don’t feel I’m really getting anywhere living here either. Still, it has kind of begun to feel like I live here. A place that is mine, in some way. I will miss that.