Thursday, December 22, 2005
On and On and On and On
How bizarre is it to be the world record holder as the guy who holds the most world records? Pretty bizarre.
It makes me think of the frosted flake cereal box with Tony the tiger on the front, and he is holding a cereal box, and on the cereal box he is holding is a picture of him holding another cereal box, and it goes ON and ON down the line and all I can think of is HOW do they DO that? Where does it start? I know it's like graphic design, but I always wonder, how many times did they have to do that until you can't tell where they started? And I try to count, but I can't! And then I start to think Which Came First, The Chicken or the egg. And I also think of the Pink Floyd Album Cover where it's like the cover within the cover within the cover. Of course that one is technically different because the band members are rearranged each time.... but you get the drift.
Now, you probably think I am messed up, but I have lost sleep and spent hours thinking these things over. And most strangely, is that they don't make frosted flakes boxes like that anymore, but I promise you that they did, and that is a piece of my photographic memory, which not all of you know that I have. It's crazy I suppose.
I am probably the only person on the face of the earth that notices this, let alone cares, and sits around thinking about it. There has to be a NAME for this technique?
It makes me think of the frosted flake cereal box with Tony the tiger on the front, and he is holding a cereal box, and on the cereal box he is holding is a picture of him holding another cereal box, and it goes ON and ON down the line and all I can think of is HOW do they DO that? Where does it start? I know it's like graphic design, but I always wonder, how many times did they have to do that until you can't tell where they started? And I try to count, but I can't! And then I start to think Which Came First, The Chicken or the egg. And I also think of the Pink Floyd Album Cover where it's like the cover within the cover within the cover. Of course that one is technically different because the band members are rearranged each time.... but you get the drift.
Now, you probably think I am messed up, but I have lost sleep and spent hours thinking these things over. And most strangely, is that they don't make frosted flakes boxes like that anymore, but I promise you that they did, and that is a piece of my photographic memory, which not all of you know that I have. It's crazy I suppose.
I am probably the only person on the face of the earth that notices this, let alone cares, and sits around thinking about it. There has to be a NAME for this technique?
My blog is a ghost town
Well, it looks like everyone's brains have shutdown for the Christmas holiday. I have been blogging away here, all by myself, and the comments and visitors have dwindled drastically. Either I am getting too boring and repetitive or everyone else is too busy or braindead. I miss everyone.
Meagan got ran over by a Reindeer.....
Sing it now! Yep! Last night a deer attacked me. I was leaving Princeton on my way to my mom's house (country roads, take me home) and It was SUPER dark out. I was thinking to myself "this is eerie and there are probably lots of deer waiting to jump out at me" so I scaled it back a bit and cruised along, watchful. I even had my glasses on. Got all the way through Manlius and about 1/4 mile from my mom's, before Brian Hochstatter's "house" (he doesn't live there) and Jim and Sherry Jensen's. I saw a buck. I slowed down and honked, he stood and gawked, per usual. there were more behind him, he was on my right. No big deal. They always lie down in the field and in the ditch right there. Seriously. You city folks probably think that's a crock of shit but I am dead serious. Deer out there travel in herds, sometimes as many as 50 or 80 deer cross or graze at a time and that is the norm. The pines out there are their home. And I am super familiar with that because that's where I spent the first 22 years of my life. I remember being in the middle of the road and having deer brushing up against the car sniffing it, and I had to honk and roll down the window and yell to get them to move. I have also hit two coyotes in my time.SO anyway. As I am just accelerating away from the "herd" I see a doe bustin ass towards me from my left, like she just realized all of her buddies are on the other side of the road. I am going like 40 and she is coming right for me. I got the brakes slammed on and I am honking and heading for the ditch away from her, and she is like on a mission. Just kept coming. I knew I was hitting her (or actually she was hitting me) and that there was no avoiding it. I was going pretty slow, so when she hit me it wasn't too serious. I saw her thrown back and she staggered. I was like oh fuck, if I have to go back there and drag a dead deer out of the middle of the road, that will totally suck. But then I see things all like Tommy Boy and she isn't really dead. So I whip a shitty in the road, and go back... Deer is gone! Must not have hurt her too bad. I didn't see any blood or anything.
So I drove to my mom's, just around the corner, and got out to see the damage. Firstly, my car (99 grand prix gt) is a TANK. It bounces back from everything. It's one of the best cars I have ever had. I didn't see any dents, just a HUGE chunk of deer hair embedded and some deer poo where the deer must have crapped in fear. So anyway, the drivers side door creaks when opening, as it rubs against the front quarter panel, so I know the panel got pushed in and back. I haven't tried to open the hood yet. That will be another sign that it is out of whack. I tried to go get the estimate this morning, but wasn't able to as motor wasn't in the shop. I of course use Wyanet Body shop for all my repair work. So I will go get an estimate tomorrow.
When I was at mom's I called the county and they sent out an officer (LRowland, from Manlius) who I have known my whole life. We sat in the kitchen at mom and dad's and filled out the report. And I wrapped Evan's giant Christmas Surprise and took it home with me.
Last night was pretty relaxed after all of that excitement, and getting my hair cut. I will do a little "dog sitting" for Harley (josh and lisa's chocolate lab) on Friday night/Sat morning... and we plan on doing some furniture shopping, I am HOPING friday night, if not monday.
We have two Christmas Eve's (as usual) at the exact same time, so we will split up and go to our respective family's celebrations. Then Christmas Day we go to mom's for presents and a late lunch. The menu sounds fabulous this year, Lasagna and Garlic Bread with cheese, and baked breaded stuffed olives. Yum. there are other goodies too but those are the ones that stick in my mind. We both have Monday off work.
Oh, and I forgot to mention, when I left mom's and headed for home, all of those deer were lying in the ditch right where I had hit that doe. They looked all bedded down for the night. I thought one of them might be her. None of them limped or looked injured, and they all stood up and pranced away when I honked.
Welcome to the country folks.
Smackdown with Springer
Ahhh, the jerry springer show. Last night as I was flipping I caught about 10 minutes of it. For some reason it just now dawned on me that Jerry Springer is almost EXACLTY like WWF Wrestling, but instead of big name wrestlers they get free white trash people in the ring. It's ingenious really. It's like the talk show gone wrong, as there isn't much talking. Usually more "bleeping" than talking.So last night was this 18 year old girl who was "in love"
and had met the perfect man. When Jerry asked her how long she had known him, she said "2 months" and the whole crown just groaned. Of course he was sleeping with "the big sister she never had" who was a white trash divorced mom of 3. The two girls go at it, screaming and pulling their hair out and pulling each other's shirts off, and then the guy comes out. Of course, he is a skanky tatooed white guy with a terrible (wannabe black) attitude and slang. The girls are then fighting him, and each other, and all three of them are shirtless before long.But that's not the part that first made me think of wrestling.
No, it was the intro. Jerry comes out in a puff of smoke and lights. They have flames and lightening bolts across the bottom of the screen that announce each person. They throw chairs at each other. The crowd chants and yells and boos. It is EXACTLY like wrestling. Lots of show. Lots of smoke and mirrors. Lightening Bolts. Flames. Girls in skimpy clubbing tops. Love Triangles. Fighting, Arguing, Yelling, and Physical Violence. Bouncers. An Announcer. All Wrestling. Very Very interesting! How come I never put this together before? And I was a WCW/NWO fan. Maybe I was just blinded by the men's soap opera that is wrestling.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
15 items on a Deserted Island
Last night as I was trying to sleep, all I could think about were the things I would miss if I were on a deserted island. And I don't mean like practical things, like plumbing, electricity, food, and water. I mean just the little things that make me happy. Things that I use everyday. I mean obviously I would DIE without the internet. But besides that even. So I decided to make a list and blog about the silly 15 things I would take with me on a deserted island.1. My body pillow. I need it.
2. Bottled water. I (by myself) drink 1.5 cases of bottled water a week. For real. Between 5-8 bottles a day. But not that Aquafina crap. It tastes like worms after it rains, you know that worm smell. I love Dasani.
3. OPI nail polish. And polish remover. I must have my toes painted at all times. What good is running around on an island with your toes in the sand if you can't make them pretty? I also would like to take toe seperators but I figure I could fashion some out of leaves. I am fairly crafty that way.
4. My dogs. I really couldn't be without them. I would be miserable.
5. toothpaste. I can probably make my own toothbrush but I can't handle bad breath. I brush my teeth at least three times a day, and keep a brush at work. I would need to have some toothpaste.
6. Sunscreen. I don't want cancer. And I tan nicely, all over, but I also burn easily the first few times, so I don't want to be miserable. Although I am sure I could find an aloe plant.
7. A Journal and Pen. If I can't blog and I have no one to talk to but the dogs.... I would need this. I can't obviously charge a laptop, so I'll have to go the old fashioned way.
8. A blanket or a sheet. I can't sleep without one if it storms, because I am afraid the lightening will get me. I am sure there will be some tropical storms, so I would like a sheet to use inside my crewd hut.
9. Moisturizer. I would prefer to not have fine lines and wrinkles, plus I have eczema, although my dermatologist told me before he died that if I became a nudist on
a tropical island that I would never have eczema again. So maybe I wouldn't NEED it but it would be a nice luxury.10. My "sexy librarian" glasses, as Tina calls them. I wouldn't need them to see, but I have bad distance eyesight, and If I want to sit on the beach and look out at the horizon for approaching pirate ships, I might need them. I could always use them to burn ants with for amusement in the meantime. Plus if Johnny Depp Rolls up in pirate garb, I could use something to make me look more mysterious and desireable.
11. a mirror. Now is that vain? Oh well. I want to be able to see myself and make sure I don't have dirt on my face. Just because it's a deserted island, I don't need to look like crap.
12. Soap. Self explanitory.
13. A chest style cooler. It won't keep my things cold but It will keep them dry. And I could sit on it when I get tired of having fire ants all over my ass. And grab ahold of it if I wanted to float in the ocean.
14. A Razor. I don't need to look like a saskwatch. Especially if I finally am rescued, or I run into some locals who want me to be their queen.
15. there is something else that I would take, that very few people know about. There are probably 2 men and 3 woman on the planet who know what this is. you know who you are.
Why can't we all wear pajamas to work?
Did I mention I am having a hard time getting up in the morning? I am not sure if it just tired, or laziness or what. My back has been bothering me again (I have arthritis in my lower back) and I haven't been taking my medication (anit-inflammatory) because I don't want to die from it in like 5 years. I take like 1/8 of the doseage so the pain is just tolerable. Last night both dogs slept with me till 4am when I kicked them out. but then I had a hard time getting back to sleep, and I was like Come ON you have 4 hours of sleep left! So I finally got back to sleep and then I didn't want to get UP. I snoozed for over an hour. Every 9 minutes. I actually moved my alarm clock into bed with me and cuddled up around it so that I wouldn't have to reach to shut it off. Isn't that terrible? And then today I wore my pajama shirt to work (slacker) with suit pants. I think it looks fine but I wonder if anyone will notice. He he he. Christmas can not come soon enough! Get me the hell out of this fucking place! I need a break!I am totally addicted to pajamas. The second I get home, I am ripping off the work clothes to put on pajamas. My favorite winter kind? Pink flannel pajama pants with various matching pink shirts, long sleeved, short sleeved, sleeveless, tank tops, camisoles. I love them. They have to be pink because I want them to match my slippers, and I have two pair of pink slippers. I usually buy them a size too big, because I like the sleeves to come down over my hands (I am tall with long arms, so arms on shirts are always too short) and I like it when the pants are super baggy and long, so that they don't bind or twist IF i decide to actually wear them to bed. I love that I can take off my slippers and pull my feet up in the chair and have my pajamas go down over my feet to keep them warm, because I hate socks. My favorite summer kind? Chemises and flannel shorts with camisoles or tank tops. I could totally live in pajamas. Check out www.pajamaheaven.com
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
I'm High Maintenance, Baby...
I would like some help determining the difference between high maintenance and "normal" - whatever that is.Is high maintenance defined by how much money you cost? Is it defined by the brand name you wear? Is it defined by the car you drive? Is it defined by the the things you demand of others, particularly of your spouse (husband or boyfriend I suppose)? Is it a combination of the above? Is it defined by if you are "real" or "fake" and is that physical (boobs, plastic surgery, hair color) or emotional "fakeness" or a combination of both?
I would have to say that an example of high maintenance would be Eva Longoria's character in Desperate Housewives, or perhaps by Paris Hilton. but depending on the society that you live in, I suppose your definition of high maintenance may differ dramatically. If you like to be taken seriously but still have fun, if you like to have control of things, dress nicely at work, have nice things, and feel pretty, is that high maintenence? Or is high maintenance described by having superficial values and looks?
I like victoria's secret underwear. All other underwear tends to have strings that hang off it and elastic snafus. (is that how you spell that? I mean snafu as in wardrobe malfunction.) I also like pretty nails, mostly because I chew mine constantly and can't stand them, so I like acrylics. I also like pedicures and massages. I don't get them regularly, but I do enjoy a good pedicure with friends and I never ever have my toes unpainted. I like to ask for pedicures for gifts- like a gift certificate to the salon. I have pretty feet, I like to focus on them. I also like to highlight my hair. I like to wear make-up. Do I shop at Wal-Mart? Yes. Do I get my hair done in Hollywood? no. In chicago? No. Does it still look awesome? You bet your ass. I like to look nice. I like my shoes, purse, and jewelry to match. Does that make me high maintenance? I like to shop. At Wal-mart and Target and at the mall occasionally. I like to shop online. But I love ebay, or any bargain.
But when you factor in that I drive a car that is 7 years old, albeit in excellent condition and nearly paid off, and the fact that I can shovel horse shit and drive a 4wheeler or motorcycle or snowmobile.... and the fact that I grew up on the farm.... does that have any say in whether I am high maintenance? And what if people didn't know those things, would I be MoRE high maintenance because of the things people don't know about me?
I guess I was thinking high maintenance because I answered a pang of longing that I was having for fake nails when I haven't had any since August (wedding)... and I wanted to have them as a pampering thing for the holidays, plus It's time to get a hair cut and a highlight, and I am thinking- wow, am I high Maintenance? Do people think that about me? Or am I just well groomed? Curious.
Leave a comment in the lasso of truth. Tell me what you feel about high maintenance. What defines it? What defines it for YOU?
I took two online quizzes. One said I was a "dominatrix". But it defined high maintenance as knowing what you want. Like do I speak up and say where I would like to eat, or do I just go where everyone else wants. Do I tell a guy what I want to drink or do I just drink what he picks out for me. Whatever. I'm not a DOORMAT. If he doesn't want to get me what I want- I will get it myself. Not sure that defines high maintenance. Although I don't mind the term dominatrix. But the second quiz said I was medium maintenance. Can't a girl just know what she wants and go for it? If I were a guy it would be considered empowering and determined, not "high maintenance."
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Crack that whip, baby. You don't take no for an answer unless that'sWell, if I were high maintenance, I guarantee I would be shopping HERE.
Must..... Get Back..... Superpowers!
I was thinking today. I used to have power. I was born blondish with big boobs. You can not imagine what power I had. And even more power because it was all real and not fake (this is not a post advocating fake boobs and bleaching your hair) Now over the years I have seemed to have gained weight, and it frustrates me. I am JUST about ready to do something about it. really. time to buckle down. With Weight gain I have lost lots of my power. Oh my brains and tongue are still sharp as tacks.... but I didn't always have to use them if I didn't want to.
5 years ago:
curvy, tall, long legs, blonde hair, big breasts- me
"oh mysterious man on the street, can you help me?"
mysterious man "considering I have been gawking at you for the last 8 minutes with my jaw on the ground and you just actually spoke to me, yes, I will do anything you ask without question!!! And also may I please buy you a drink or perhaps some diamonds? Can I stare at your chest while you lean in to open the door?"
today, 50 pounds later:
chunky, klutzy, pudgy, unnoticeable- me
"excuse me sir, could you please help me?"
mysterious man "I'm sorry, is there someone there? Oh you struggling with a giant package, I never even noticed you because my eyes were riveted to that leggy blonde over there. Why don't you get a gay man to help you, they're interested in helping the chunky chicks."
Why oh why would you want to throw away such power?! I had that perfect combination of being able to get a man's attention without even speaking or looking at him and the sharp tongue and quick retorts that would leave him alternately running for his life and begging for more.
I have lost it. All my powers of persuasion. Gone. I must get them back. Drat where IS that treadmill? I have even lost the powers over my husband! Of course I think he likes not being subject to the powers and not seeing other men subject to the powers. That's why he keeps resisting the requests for the treadmill to be moved to our house. You see, while there must be some satisfaction in "those other guys are constantly staring at my girlfriend (now wife) there must also be some annoyance in "those other guys are constantly staring at my girlfriend." and maybe he got tired of comments like "will you breastfeed my kids" and "can I see those before I die."
Who knows. But I must get back my superpowers before it is too late.
5 years ago:
curvy, tall, long legs, blonde hair, big breasts- me
"oh mysterious man on the street, can you help me?"
mysterious man "considering I have been gawking at you for the last 8 minutes with my jaw on the ground and you just actually spoke to me, yes, I will do anything you ask without question!!! And also may I please buy you a drink or perhaps some diamonds? Can I stare at your chest while you lean in to open the door?"
today, 50 pounds later:
chunky, klutzy, pudgy, unnoticeable- me
"excuse me sir, could you please help me?"
mysterious man "I'm sorry, is there someone there? Oh you struggling with a giant package, I never even noticed you because my eyes were riveted to that leggy blonde over there. Why don't you get a gay man to help you, they're interested in helping the chunky chicks."
Why oh why would you want to throw away such power?! I had that perfect combination of being able to get a man's attention without even speaking or looking at him and the sharp tongue and quick retorts that would leave him alternately running for his life and begging for more.
I have lost it. All my powers of persuasion. Gone. I must get them back. Drat where IS that treadmill? I have even lost the powers over my husband! Of course I think he likes not being subject to the powers and not seeing other men subject to the powers. That's why he keeps resisting the requests for the treadmill to be moved to our house. You see, while there must be some satisfaction in "those other guys are constantly staring at my girlfriend (now wife) there must also be some annoyance in "those other guys are constantly staring at my girlfriend." and maybe he got tired of comments like "will you breastfeed my kids" and "can I see those before I die."
Who knows. But I must get back my superpowers before it is too late.
Yes!
Remember when Wal-Mart pissed me off (see post a few days ago) I keep forgetting to mention that when I took my card back in to pick up the pictures and prove they were mine, the clerk who waited on me heard what I had to say and instead of looking at my card, rolled her eyes in exasperation at her co-workers, handed me the pictures, and never once looked at my card. I said "Do you need to look at this?" and she said "I don't care. I don't have time, and I don't care. Thanks!" and I said "I like you!" and walked out with my pictures. Totally cool.
Prenuptual Pettiness
Jessica and Nick, Christina Appelgate and hubbie Jonathan, Fights between Britney and Skank Federline, all of this has prompted lots of talk lately about prenuptual agreements.
Evan and I joke (or at least I joke) that we should have had a pre-nup ourselves. You see, I come attached with MANY MANY MANY posessions. I have hobbies like scrapbooking, stamping, crocheting, basket weaving, photography, painting, that all come with collections of things. I have furniture, I have clothes and shoes, purses and jewelry. I also have electronica, and household decorations, and cooking stuff up the wazoo. So when we got married, Evan's new thing is "what's mine is yours, what's yours is mine." And he is right, but I still have the posessiveness. Like he is working at my scrapbooking table, with his laptop, and I put some of my scrapbook stuff over on his side (because you need lots of space when scrapbooking) and he says "Hey, this is MY side of the table" and I say "this is MY table!" and he replies with the glare and "this it OUR table. We are married now, remember?" and I am like DAMN! We should have signed a prenup! And he rolls his eyes.
But what I am seeing lately is more shocking than "that's my table." The following are lists of recent celebrity prenup requests, as cited by lawyers....
— Limiting the wife's weight to 120 pounds or she must relinquish $100,000 of her separate property.
— Allowing a spouse to perform random drug tests, with financial penalties for positive results.
— Requiring a husband to pay $10,000 each time he is rude to his wife's parents.
— The previously mentioned rules regarding mothers-in-law, football and sex.
Whatever man. Limiting the wife's weight?! Oh what a load of crap! What if she has a tumor that weighs ten pounds, or a fibrous mass? What if she is pregnant? What the hell? What woman with any amount of decency would sign that? Oh I know that you will love me and cherish me, as long as I weigh less than an unhealthy 120 pounds. You are definately the one for me! Yeah right! What about limiting the man's weight? Husband must weigh less than 180 pounds (yes, unreasonable, remember) at all times and must give the wife sex 2 nights a week and must take out the garbage once a week and must put all his dirty socks in the hamper. a $100, 000 penalty will result for each sock found on the floor or on the kitchen counter or the computer desk (for real, it happens, i know from experience.)
Evan and I joke (or at least I joke) that we should have had a pre-nup ourselves. You see, I come attached with MANY MANY MANY posessions. I have hobbies like scrapbooking, stamping, crocheting, basket weaving, photography, painting, that all come with collections of things. I have furniture, I have clothes and shoes, purses and jewelry. I also have electronica, and household decorations, and cooking stuff up the wazoo. So when we got married, Evan's new thing is "what's mine is yours, what's yours is mine." And he is right, but I still have the posessiveness. Like he is working at my scrapbooking table, with his laptop, and I put some of my scrapbook stuff over on his side (because you need lots of space when scrapbooking) and he says "Hey, this is MY side of the table" and I say "this is MY table!" and he replies with the glare and "this it OUR table. We are married now, remember?" and I am like DAMN! We should have signed a prenup! And he rolls his eyes.
But what I am seeing lately is more shocking than "that's my table." The following are lists of recent celebrity prenup requests, as cited by lawyers....
— Limiting the wife's weight to 120 pounds or she must relinquish $100,000 of her separate property.
— Allowing a spouse to perform random drug tests, with financial penalties for positive results.
— Requiring a husband to pay $10,000 each time he is rude to his wife's parents.
— The previously mentioned rules regarding mothers-in-law, football and sex.
Whatever man. Limiting the wife's weight?! Oh what a load of crap! What if she has a tumor that weighs ten pounds, or a fibrous mass? What if she is pregnant? What the hell? What woman with any amount of decency would sign that? Oh I know that you will love me and cherish me, as long as I weigh less than an unhealthy 120 pounds. You are definately the one for me! Yeah right! What about limiting the man's weight? Husband must weigh less than 180 pounds (yes, unreasonable, remember) at all times and must give the wife sex 2 nights a week and must take out the garbage once a week and must put all his dirty socks in the hamper. a $100, 000 penalty will result for each sock found on the floor or on the kitchen counter or the computer desk (for real, it happens, i know from experience.)
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Too Much Bush on Desperate Housewives.
I hate reruns. Tonight I was all settled in for Desperate Housewives and Gery's Anatomy, and BOTH are reruns. What a load of crap. At least when the president took over all network TV Stations, he was talking over a desperate housewives rerun. If he had been talking over a new episode, he would have lost A LOT of support. Because as you recall before- Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned. But hey, what does he care, his election days are over.
So I am looking around at all the "house" things that need to get done tonight. Tomorrow is cleaning people day again. Oy. I don't want to do anything.
So I am looking around at all the "house" things that need to get done tonight. Tomorrow is cleaning people day again. Oy. I don't want to do anything.
Airing my Dirty Laundry....
Oh blog sweet blog. I missed you so. I wonder if phychiatrists would recommend blogs as Anger Management tools. It certainly works for me. Today, I would really like to make a sign that says "stay out of my fucking laundry room" and post it on the door.
Now, let me say, my laundry room is far from fancy, and it is far from clean. it is in the basement, under the kitchen and the basement stairs. It is all cement except for brick walls from about 3/4 up to the ceiling (the house foundation.) It isn't painted. The ceilings are open beams, with old cobwebs and ceramic knob wiring. The sink is ancient, it hangs on the wall. I do have a new washer and a 6 year old dryer, the newer hot water heater, then a nice counter top that they built for me to fold clothes on. There are four clothes sorters with 3 bags each, and two garment racks to hang clothes on when they are out of the dryer or air drying. I have a big braided rug on the floor and I sweep up the floor with a bristle broom every month or so, shake out the rug.... you get the picture. An overflowing garbage for lint from the lint trap. It's your basic place to do laundry. However, I am always behind. It is beyond me how one couple can wear so many clothes. How can we fill two hampers in one week, not including sheets, rugs, towels, blankets.... It's insanity. Every weekend I have at least six loads (and I mean full loads) usually more like 7-10 loads of laundry to do. And if I don't do laundry one week, it easily becomes 14-18 loads by the next weekend. SO unless for some reason We are gone for the weekend, I average 8 loads of laundry a week. I usually do a load on Friday, like jeans so we have something to wear for the weekend, and then I do all the loads on Sunday. Sunday is the "unwritten" cleaning day for me, but that is another post altogether.
I hate hate hate laundry. When I first moved here, I lovedl laundry. I took a special sort of pride in perfectly matched socks and fluffy folded towels. I folded my underwear. I did ALL the laundry and put ALL the clothes away myself. How stupid. Evan used to wash clothes but it was so unorganized it drove me nuts. He never sorted clothes. He put everything he wore that day into the washer, and then into the dryer, and then he took out what he wanted and left everything else in the dryer, door hanging open, pant leg hanging out, clean sock on the floor. When he took off clothes, he slid out of them like snake skin and left them in a pile. I still have to shake his jeans out when I wash them, from each pair falls 2 scrunched up dirty socks and a pair of boxers. Guaranteed. And the occasional quarter, bic lighter, and guitar pick. I can not TELL you how many times he has washed a bic lighter and then I find it between the washer and dryer cycle. He would fold towels for me and each towel would be folded a different direction and when he stacked them precariously, as soon as you tried to transport the stack upstairs, it would fall over into a heap. It drove me C-R-A-Z-Y.
I took over laundry. I insisted that it be sorted by me. I hated how he couldn't put a shirt on a hanger and have it stay there longer than the 10 seconds it took to hang it on the garment rack. Then would I would attempt to carry laundry upstairs, all the shoulders would pop off the hangers and they would slide to the floor. I can not begin to tell you how annoying I found this. So I started doing all the laundry. Matching all the socks, folding everything, and putting everything away. All I asked was that he carry the dirty clothes downstairs for me each week. Well, that got old fast. Now I have been begging Evan to beome more involved in laundry, We fought endlessly about the "open dryer." I was sure that leaving the door open and clean clothes hanging out of it, was an evil, dirty thing to do. Not only were clothes wrinkled, but they would get CONTAMINATED with basement air! Mice could get in! It was just WRONG! I finally got to the point where the towels did not need to be refolded and the shirts were staying on the hangers. I have to say that on an average, Evan does 2 out of 10 loads of laundry. But he NEVER EVER EVER puts laundry away. And neither do I. So basically, every morning we have to go to the basement to get dressed. That's where out clothes are. Why do we even have closets and dressers? Clothes baskets are not to carry dirty and clean clothes to and from the basement, they are what our socks and underwear are stored in until we need to wear them. Looking for something? Dig through one of those 5 clothes baskets stacked in the corner.
It's TERRIBLE! I HATE it! But I can't handle it alone. Not anymore. It's too much.
So this sets up to the fact that the clothes are all over the basement. Folded and hung and ready to be worn. Usually the clean underwear are in a swirl on top of the dryer. Sometimes they make it to the dresser, but only occasionally. And only if there is an empty clothes basket (yeah right!)
So last week, the contractor was pulling old old wiring out of the basement ceilings and properly running the new wiring through the floor joists. This took alot of pounding and drilling, and we were just notified of what was happening when I went down to see what was up. I didn't mind much, they were making a hellacious mess of wood shavings and black flecks that look like mouse poop but were actually pieces of the casing around the old wires, falling from the ceiling. The basement floor was so full that I couldn't even walk across it, but they swept it up later that week when they finished (at least for the week.)
Now when I went downstairs to get clothes to wear, I noticed that there is sawdust ALL OVER OUR CLEAN CLOTHES in the laundry room. Embedded into my good sweaters and in piles on top of sheets and towels. Also all inside the laundry sorters and on top of the dirty clothes all sorted and ready to be washed. All over the floor, all over the rug, all over the washer and dryer. EVERYWHERE. And it is so embedded into my sweaters that a lint brush and a sweater shaver won't get it out. I have to hand pick it off and then rewash everything so that the dust and the black crap comes off. I had to empty every laundry bag and shake it, shake the rug, sweep it all up. ARGH!!!! So now instead of the 10 loads of laundry that I had to do today, I have like 14, as I rewash all the stuff that got full of sawdust. And did I mention that last week they suddenly took to washing their paint brushes and stain brushes out in the sink down there? less than 6 inches from our good clothes hanging up on the garment rack? When I went to put on a bra last week the left side of it was ORANGE where they had gotten paint all over it? All I can say is thank the fucking lord it was an old Wal-Mart Bra and not a new $50 Victoria's Secret Bra. I would have gone ape shit.
Partially my fault. I guess who leaves clean clothes in their laundry room? But on the side of common sense, I have to say that no matter WHERE I was drilling, if there were stacks and hangers of clean clothes, expensive sweaters and bras around, I would NOT be drilling on top of them. I would either lie down a sheet of plastic or cardboard, or notify the owner of what I wanted to do, and give them a day to get the room cleaned up and prepared for the work.
Am I overreacting? Please let me know before I go post a mean ass sign and start padlocking my laundry room.
Now, let me say, my laundry room is far from fancy, and it is far from clean. it is in the basement, under the kitchen and the basement stairs. It is all cement except for brick walls from about 3/4 up to the ceiling (the house foundation.) It isn't painted. The ceilings are open beams, with old cobwebs and ceramic knob wiring. The sink is ancient, it hangs on the wall. I do have a new washer and a 6 year old dryer, the newer hot water heater, then a nice counter top that they built for me to fold clothes on. There are four clothes sorters with 3 bags each, and two garment racks to hang clothes on when they are out of the dryer or air drying. I have a big braided rug on the floor and I sweep up the floor with a bristle broom every month or so, shake out the rug.... you get the picture. An overflowing garbage for lint from the lint trap. It's your basic place to do laundry. However, I am always behind. It is beyond me how one couple can wear so many clothes. How can we fill two hampers in one week, not including sheets, rugs, towels, blankets.... It's insanity. Every weekend I have at least six loads (and I mean full loads) usually more like 7-10 loads of laundry to do. And if I don't do laundry one week, it easily becomes 14-18 loads by the next weekend. SO unless for some reason We are gone for the weekend, I average 8 loads of laundry a week. I usually do a load on Friday, like jeans so we have something to wear for the weekend, and then I do all the loads on Sunday. Sunday is the "unwritten" cleaning day for me, but that is another post altogether.
I hate hate hate laundry. When I first moved here, I lovedl laundry. I took a special sort of pride in perfectly matched socks and fluffy folded towels. I folded my underwear. I did ALL the laundry and put ALL the clothes away myself. How stupid. Evan used to wash clothes but it was so unorganized it drove me nuts. He never sorted clothes. He put everything he wore that day into the washer, and then into the dryer, and then he took out what he wanted and left everything else in the dryer, door hanging open, pant leg hanging out, clean sock on the floor. When he took off clothes, he slid out of them like snake skin and left them in a pile. I still have to shake his jeans out when I wash them, from each pair falls 2 scrunched up dirty socks and a pair of boxers. Guaranteed. And the occasional quarter, bic lighter, and guitar pick. I can not TELL you how many times he has washed a bic lighter and then I find it between the washer and dryer cycle. He would fold towels for me and each towel would be folded a different direction and when he stacked them precariously, as soon as you tried to transport the stack upstairs, it would fall over into a heap. It drove me C-R-A-Z-Y.
I took over laundry. I insisted that it be sorted by me. I hated how he couldn't put a shirt on a hanger and have it stay there longer than the 10 seconds it took to hang it on the garment rack. Then would I would attempt to carry laundry upstairs, all the shoulders would pop off the hangers and they would slide to the floor. I can not begin to tell you how annoying I found this. So I started doing all the laundry. Matching all the socks, folding everything, and putting everything away. All I asked was that he carry the dirty clothes downstairs for me each week. Well, that got old fast. Now I have been begging Evan to beome more involved in laundry, We fought endlessly about the "open dryer." I was sure that leaving the door open and clean clothes hanging out of it, was an evil, dirty thing to do. Not only were clothes wrinkled, but they would get CONTAMINATED with basement air! Mice could get in! It was just WRONG! I finally got to the point where the towels did not need to be refolded and the shirts were staying on the hangers. I have to say that on an average, Evan does 2 out of 10 loads of laundry. But he NEVER EVER EVER puts laundry away. And neither do I. So basically, every morning we have to go to the basement to get dressed. That's where out clothes are. Why do we even have closets and dressers? Clothes baskets are not to carry dirty and clean clothes to and from the basement, they are what our socks and underwear are stored in until we need to wear them. Looking for something? Dig through one of those 5 clothes baskets stacked in the corner.
It's TERRIBLE! I HATE it! But I can't handle it alone. Not anymore. It's too much.
So this sets up to the fact that the clothes are all over the basement. Folded and hung and ready to be worn. Usually the clean underwear are in a swirl on top of the dryer. Sometimes they make it to the dresser, but only occasionally. And only if there is an empty clothes basket (yeah right!)
So last week, the contractor was pulling old old wiring out of the basement ceilings and properly running the new wiring through the floor joists. This took alot of pounding and drilling, and we were just notified of what was happening when I went down to see what was up. I didn't mind much, they were making a hellacious mess of wood shavings and black flecks that look like mouse poop but were actually pieces of the casing around the old wires, falling from the ceiling. The basement floor was so full that I couldn't even walk across it, but they swept it up later that week when they finished (at least for the week.)
Now when I went downstairs to get clothes to wear, I noticed that there is sawdust ALL OVER OUR CLEAN CLOTHES in the laundry room. Embedded into my good sweaters and in piles on top of sheets and towels. Also all inside the laundry sorters and on top of the dirty clothes all sorted and ready to be washed. All over the floor, all over the rug, all over the washer and dryer. EVERYWHERE. And it is so embedded into my sweaters that a lint brush and a sweater shaver won't get it out. I have to hand pick it off and then rewash everything so that the dust and the black crap comes off. I had to empty every laundry bag and shake it, shake the rug, sweep it all up. ARGH!!!! So now instead of the 10 loads of laundry that I had to do today, I have like 14, as I rewash all the stuff that got full of sawdust. And did I mention that last week they suddenly took to washing their paint brushes and stain brushes out in the sink down there? less than 6 inches from our good clothes hanging up on the garment rack? When I went to put on a bra last week the left side of it was ORANGE where they had gotten paint all over it? All I can say is thank the fucking lord it was an old Wal-Mart Bra and not a new $50 Victoria's Secret Bra. I would have gone ape shit.
Partially my fault. I guess who leaves clean clothes in their laundry room? But on the side of common sense, I have to say that no matter WHERE I was drilling, if there were stacks and hangers of clean clothes, expensive sweaters and bras around, I would NOT be drilling on top of them. I would either lie down a sheet of plastic or cardboard, or notify the owner of what I wanted to do, and give them a day to get the room cleaned up and prepared for the work.
Am I overreacting? Please let me know before I go post a mean ass sign and start padlocking my laundry room.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Wrapping Presents, Moving In.
I decided to take a break from wrapping presents and blog a bit. I have "stamp cramp" - which for those of you who know, is the cramp that you get in your hand from stamping too many things repeatedly. I make my own wrapping paper, and I have about 20 gifts to wrap, so I have to make the paper for each gift, then I can wrap it. I made my tags last Wednesday evening, so that part is at least completed. I just finished a bunch of gifts, and I have the stamp cramp, so I am taking a break.The living room is "done" now, the final coat of stain on the woodwork/trim/doors/windows. So last night I got some mini things done. There is still no furniture in the room because we really don't have much. Just two recliners, the TV armoire, and a floor lamp- and then some baskets
and a crock on the floor. So I cleaned all the glassware, including all then new Mikasa wine glasses and shot glasses that we got for our wedding presents, and put them away in the built in cabinet again. Then I moved my new little wine cupboard into the dining room, it's the only thing in the entire room, besides the corner bakers rack I just bought. It is just killing me to not have new furniture to put in the new room. Killing me. I am dying for a dining room table and chairs, and for the dream hutch and the sideboard table. It's tough.Also posted is a picture of Boyd standing by the presents I just wrapped, and of course we have no tree up, so they are just hanging out on the floor. Except one of the presents has some food in it and Boyd keeps sniffing it and trying to lick it... so I have to watch him.
As always, click on the pics to view them larger.
It will take a Christmas Miracle.
I feel as though Christmas has just taken a sad sad turn. Let me first give you a bit of background. Before I begin, let me just make a statement.
But the moral of the story is that as a favor to his parents, my husband will be driving to Chicago and back EARLY EARLY on Christmas morning instead of waking up next to his wife, kissing her a good Christmas morning kiss, and opening gifts with her at home. Instead, we will be seperated on Christmas Eve as we each go to our seperate families, and we likely won't even go to sleep at the same time, and then he will wake up at like 6:30am, to go to Chicago, and won't be back until probably lunch time, if things go well, traffic is not too bad, and the roads and weather are okay.
Then me, wife, will be all alone, no presents opened on Christmas morning, and then have to go to my mom's for Christmas day all by myself, with the assumption that Evan will come there when he gets home from Chicago. All of this to go pick up a vehicle that his parents drove up there on Christmas Eve. Why won't they just let him drive them up there on Christmas Eve? Why does ANYONE need to be traveling that far on Christmas or Christmas Eve. I am worried to death of the traffic and the potential for accidents. I don't ever want to lose my husband or have him be hurt, especially not around Christmas!
Now it is one thing if they don't care about Christmas themselves, and they want to ruin their Christmas by making plans that everyone else thinks are insane. That's their business. It's their Christmas. They usually don't celebrate it anyway, so they can "celebrate" it however they want. However, now their decisions are affecting my marraige, my Christmas, and the traditions that I am trying to build with my new husband.
My first "married" christmas and my husband will be far away. I mean I can't whine too much, he could be in the military overseas, it could be much more stressful, but the point is, there has to be a point where you are able to make your own decisions as an adult, and even though you owe your parents alot, and you love them alot, you should still be able to say "I am sorry, I can't do that. Not today. Today is Christmas and it is important to me and it is important to my wife, and As much as I love you and want to help you, I know that you will understand." and then I would try to work with them to find an alternative. And at the same time, what parents would ask their child to do a silly errand away from his wife on Christmas Day. I am telling you, if we had kids, I would say OVER MY DEAD BODY are you leaving us on Christmas. But I don't have that leverage as just a wife. That would be selfish. But in this instance they are thinking only of themselves. It frustrates me incredibly. And the kicker is that I am SOOOO super excited about the big gift that I got for husband this year, and he won't even be home on Christmas morning to open it.
Am I being overly dramatic? I don't know. I am just frustrated and angry that we are still letting others make decisions for us and we (at least one of us) can't stand up for ourselves, even to our own parents.
UPDATE: Apparently I am mildly overreacting. Instead of the vehicle being in Chicago, it will be in Moline.... so instead of a 2 hours away (sans traffic) to Chicago, he is going 45 minutes away. That is not so bad. I wondered for hours last night what made me jump to that conclusion, because I am not usually a conclusion jumper. I am a rational, fact based, kind of person. I recall that months ago, the Mother-in-law telling me all about the whole ordeal, and saying she had already invested and were going to Chicago on Christmas Eve. She also went into a discussion about their vehicle and how it would be safe in Chicago because it would be fenced in and all that, and now they were changing their minds? It all seemed too strange. So husband never said WHERE he was going to get the vehicle when he approached me about it, and I, already being told it was Chicago, assumed that it was, and when I found out differently last night, I was like- um wait. Moline? and Husband said YES moline, no WONDER you flew off the handle about it, YOU thought I was going to Chicago. So it was a miscommunication. There was a change of plans somewhere in there that didn't get mentioned to me, and I was just going with what I had been originally told. So while I am still upset, I know now that husband will onle be gone 2 hours. Nothing serious. It will all work out, and I will try to sleep in.... so I had better stay out late. Was it a Christmas Miracle?
I love my in-laws. They love me and they have done alot for mySecondly, let me just say that I can't give you the full story without divulging what I believe to be personal information online about the family and making it available for crazy people online.
husband and I. But that doesn't mean that I can't get a little upset every
once in a while. Correct?
But the moral of the story is that as a favor to his parents, my husband will be driving to Chicago and back EARLY EARLY on Christmas morning instead of waking up next to his wife, kissing her a good Christmas morning kiss, and opening gifts with her at home. Instead, we will be seperated on Christmas Eve as we each go to our seperate families, and we likely won't even go to sleep at the same time, and then he will wake up at like 6:30am, to go to Chicago, and won't be back until probably lunch time, if things go well, traffic is not too bad, and the roads and weather are okay.
Then me, wife, will be all alone, no presents opened on Christmas morning, and then have to go to my mom's for Christmas day all by myself, with the assumption that Evan will come there when he gets home from Chicago. All of this to go pick up a vehicle that his parents drove up there on Christmas Eve. Why won't they just let him drive them up there on Christmas Eve? Why does ANYONE need to be traveling that far on Christmas or Christmas Eve. I am worried to death of the traffic and the potential for accidents. I don't ever want to lose my husband or have him be hurt, especially not around Christmas!
Now it is one thing if they don't care about Christmas themselves, and they want to ruin their Christmas by making plans that everyone else thinks are insane. That's their business. It's their Christmas. They usually don't celebrate it anyway, so they can "celebrate" it however they want. However, now their decisions are affecting my marraige, my Christmas, and the traditions that I am trying to build with my new husband.
My first "married" christmas and my husband will be far away. I mean I can't whine too much, he could be in the military overseas, it could be much more stressful, but the point is, there has to be a point where you are able to make your own decisions as an adult, and even though you owe your parents alot, and you love them alot, you should still be able to say "I am sorry, I can't do that. Not today. Today is Christmas and it is important to me and it is important to my wife, and As much as I love you and want to help you, I know that you will understand." and then I would try to work with them to find an alternative. And at the same time, what parents would ask their child to do a silly errand away from his wife on Christmas Day. I am telling you, if we had kids, I would say OVER MY DEAD BODY are you leaving us on Christmas. But I don't have that leverage as just a wife. That would be selfish. But in this instance they are thinking only of themselves. It frustrates me incredibly. And the kicker is that I am SOOOO super excited about the big gift that I got for husband this year, and he won't even be home on Christmas morning to open it.
Am I being overly dramatic? I don't know. I am just frustrated and angry that we are still letting others make decisions for us and we (at least one of us) can't stand up for ourselves, even to our own parents.
UPDATE: Apparently I am mildly overreacting. Instead of the vehicle being in Chicago, it will be in Moline.... so instead of a 2 hours away (sans traffic) to Chicago, he is going 45 minutes away. That is not so bad. I wondered for hours last night what made me jump to that conclusion, because I am not usually a conclusion jumper. I am a rational, fact based, kind of person. I recall that months ago, the Mother-in-law telling me all about the whole ordeal, and saying she had already invested and were going to Chicago on Christmas Eve. She also went into a discussion about their vehicle and how it would be safe in Chicago because it would be fenced in and all that, and now they were changing their minds? It all seemed too strange. So husband never said WHERE he was going to get the vehicle when he approached me about it, and I, already being told it was Chicago, assumed that it was, and when I found out differently last night, I was like- um wait. Moline? and Husband said YES moline, no WONDER you flew off the handle about it, YOU thought I was going to Chicago. So it was a miscommunication. There was a change of plans somewhere in there that didn't get mentioned to me, and I was just going with what I had been originally told. So while I am still upset, I know now that husband will onle be gone 2 hours. Nothing serious. It will all work out, and I will try to sleep in.... so I had better stay out late. Was it a Christmas Miracle?
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