Taking the white clothes out of the dryer today, there were two pairs of socks. One ankle pair that belonged to me and a pair of mid calf, thick, robust socks that belonged to him. I sighed realizing cold weather has arrived. For him, anyway. I will continue to wear my Offos flip flops until we have snow. Of course, this year I won’t be going anywhere because of flu/COVID season so perhaps flip flops will see me through until spring.
For as long as I’ve been aware of the washing machine and dryer, I’ve been aware of the urban legends of what happens to 1 out of every so-many pairs of socks. Nothing disappears in the act of doing laundry like socks…I maintain that we can continue to complain as we try to mate socks or we can just reach blindly into the dryer and just mate them as they come out. Where is it written that the person who does laundry must be the responsible adult.
Which brings me to sock manufacturers. Why do they mess with us. Why do they insist on a black logo one year, perhaps a blue one another year. I have several pair of black, gray and white design socks and each one identical EXCEPT each pair has a different color of stripe around the ankle. WHY WHY WHY. Is this really necessary? Socks are stuffed in shoes…and worn during the same season that long pants cover the rest of them. Why make this complicated?
Until next time when we will discuss why food that misses the mouth is only attracted to white shirts!
Well here we are at 1:49 am on a Sunday morning…the nerd and his sister woke me again. I visit with these two often in the middle of the night. I’m not really sure what she looks like but he is wearing a too tight white shirt with a black tie and as we have become acquainted when my eyes fly open in the middle of the night, I swear if he stood up it would be Sheldon from Big Bang. It seems the nerd is always silently enunciating words to me which feels like he’s trying to explain something and it appears he is sitting in a Hy Vee parking lot. As I made my way to the bathroom this morning, I freaked myself out with the thought…oh dear God what if they are my spirit guides that I’ve been curious about?
Thus I’m wide awake now writing words.
I sleep in our day bed 2 nights a week in my office/craft room because I get up at 4:15 to prepare for my job. No need to wake Him and the cats at 4:15 am “preparing” which means I roll out, turn on the keurig, half turn and click on the computer and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Since starting this job with the early morning routine, often I find myself waking up with a start once to several times a night. Anxiety I’m guessing….and the nerd and his sister are usually my first vision.
Across from my bed in the office is one of those huge round clocks from a couple decades ago…night before last I jumped out of bed because in the dark room, the hands on the clock were on 6:00…I overslept. While the nerd and his sister didn’t appear, I’m positive he was there snickering when I realized it was really only 11:30 pm as I passed by the microwave clock … I had been asleep 3 hours.
So now I will open my book and read a couple/three paragraphs until my eyes get heavy and I gratefully nod off. It works nearly every night. I’m hoping that addressing the Nerd in a nocturnal blog strips him of the joy of waking me in the middle of the night for nothing more than a few seconds of silent demonstrative blabber….wonder what he is really trying to tell me?
I gave him the look that had only previously been used when I learned that he had discarded the lids to my stash of cool whip containers.
The only reason he asks now has to do with a very traumatic event (for him) which happened last year. I had been saving “good” cardboard boxes in a corner of the basement to put “for thrift store” items in. Lo and freeking behold, when I went to the basement to retrieve a box, the basement was empty of boxes…..WHAT? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHY DO YOU THINK I SAVED THOSE BOXES ONE INSIDE THE OTHER?
We used to live in an A frame house that he built. Along both sides there were cubby holes and in one little corner, I had hoarded many, many, many Christmas present boxes. The next two house to house moves we made, that collection dwindled. I still feel the loss. The feeling that all is well with the world when I would see my stack of department store boxes which had been dutifully handed out by clerks from the stash behind the checkout counter during Christmas shopping season.
Because of my love for stacks of empty boxes, I giggled with satisfaction when this meme showed up on my Facebook wall last week.
Box people unite…I love you, I would be so “in” to be invited to a cardboard box Facebook group.
I really wish I had pictures of HIM crawling around on the floor in my craft room repeating over and over…it’s not under here. It couldn’t get under here.
This was right after I went into a panic because there was a wet spot on the floor under the master bathroom. I moved the trash can to catch any drips. And then I recalled that two hours earlier I had leaned over to plug in my space heater with my IPAD in one hand and my jumbo Bubba cup in the other. Obviously a couple drips of water……
Where is the Roomba
Not under the day bed, not in the bathroom, there’s no way it could get under the desk, not under the craft cabinet…I accused him of messing with me…in his sternest voice he assured me that he absolutely was not messing with me.
Much Later I was cleaning up supper dishes (because there is absolutely no hurry to do them anymore) I was drawn to this cupboard….
No….the Roomba wasn’t in there…
I was starting to feel totally detached from reality. I had no idea what was behind this cupboard door. I’m not sure I have even opened that door since I put the plastic containers in it obviously a long time ago. Those same plastic containers I’ve been searching for.
Rex is sleeping like this
Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my sense of reality and just need to get out of this house…or perhaps just add different music to my playlist. But my music is so comfortable, I don’t have to question what song is next. Don’t misunderstand most of the time I actually feel pretty happy and content but things just feel like they aren’t where they belong….
Oh…the Roomba….he crawled completely under the desk which is barricaded on all sides by important stuff. Somehow It was stuck in a corner. The thought crossed my mind that if that thing had come to life under there while I was working at the computer, it would have been all over!
He is thinking about going to the front yard today, he spent time in the backyard yesterday.
I lost my dirty green sweatshirt and found it in the dirty clothes basket so I was forced to find it’s replacement…bright white
I cut my own bangs. I look twelve and this is not what I meant when I said I wanted to look younger.
We continually work on this 1,000 piece vegetable puzzle. Purple grapes had me questioning my life and my choices but made headway last night…I think we are already missing some pieces…damn cats! I think you can see the fake smiles in this picture and I notice It appears he is using his strength clutching the box to lessen his angst.
This lovely Christmas gift from the kids has become the most exciting thing in our life. When the yellow finch is dining, Rex is able to fly through the air and bump into the Window…the bird flies off and Rex gets sprayed with the water bottle which means the window is constantly wet with running drips. Of course this may be the only cleaning they get this spring. I’m way too busy.
Before I delve into the movie, I feel like talking.
Before I went to see the movie, Last Christmas, at the theater in November, I cannot tell you the last time I stepped foot in a theater. One of the Bushes was probably president…theaters had a lot of seating in chairs with seats that flipped up and down and you had to share an armrest with the person next to you and as someone mentioned this morning, you had to continually move your feet so emergency responders were not called to pry you up from the sticky floor after the movie finished. Or I could have just said, it’s had been a long time.
Last Christmas the movie was ok. I didn’t love it but I liked it. The twist at the end still gives me a warm feeling 2 months later.
Knives up….or was in Knives down…knives out. It was ok. I didn’t love it, I didn’t dislike it. I was entertained and that’s good enough.
A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood…oh my…I loved it and I didn’t watch Mr Rogers when I was young. Nor have I seen the Snoopy Christmas’s movie…or any Snoopy movie or cartoon for that matter. That’s another blog topic. Tom Hanks is an amazing actor!
Cats. Cats aren’t Dogs. That will only bring a chuckle after you have seen the movie. I was hesitant after reading reviews…pretty much everything I read said horrendous was a kind word. I liked it. I didn’t love it. There is no plot. The music was very disappointing… I was expecting heart jarring emotion from the music…it was Andrew Lloyd Webber music for crying out loud…the costumes were interesting and I think appropriate..especially cat tales. The dancing was pleasurable! I was reasonably disturbed with Rebel Wilson’s character but I should have expected it…it was Rebel Wilson. The movie is not going to be enjoyed by everyone but I lean toward it may be enjoyable for real feline lovers? There were scenes I enjoyed…ahem And if you love Idris Elba…well hold on!
Last Monday my friends started wearing winter coats.
I was at peak awareness as everyone arrived to our book group and as each woman walked in the door someone said “puffy coat”. And it was true…unlike my half winter coat which has no stylish puffiness and is barely a winter coat I bought 5 years ago for the first winter in our new warmer climate state. State being the territory or my emotional state of new and warmer. I noticed that most of the women did not assume the modeling pose when their coat was mentioned but all seemed to grab it in a fist just below their neck and I understood the body language indicating the coat was perfectly warm.
Saturday I went to JC Penny and because of their 50 percent off sale I purchased a nice puffy coat so I could fit in with my peers….and because I freeze in my milder climate coat. Although I’m mildly concerned about the Champaign color not being status quo…it was 50 percent off…which was appropriately the exact amount I would pay for the design, the workmanship and the fact it has fake fur around the collar. Not that I would even consider real fur but I really didn’t want fur.
This morning I saw an article about The Amazon Coat. Last years Amazon coat. I am obviously so out of touch with fashion that I had not even heard of the Amazon Coat. APPARENTLY it was stylish at least in Chicago and New York… here you go
Is this not the ugliest coat you have ever see . I mean even on a skinny girl with leggings. Can you imagine this same coat on a normal size woman or one with a little girth? Polish sausage in a bun wrapped with aluminum foil, perhaps.
Here’s my new puffy coat…
I can hardly wait to walk into group tonight..I will already know to walk in gripping just below my throat and feeling like a stylish maven!
Many years ago….the 70’s….I conducted a study of fellow employees of the insurance company I worked whether they folded or crinkled their toilet paper. The question had been banging around my brain for many years because as a child, I remember the time consuming folding my mother used to do…I, on the other hand, was a non conformist and was not particularly an “attention to detail person”. In case you are wondering, I have no recollection the study details but I recall being pretty spot on with who I thought did what.
Yesterday I was thinking about hugging so I asked my Facebook friends if they were hugged as children…the options given were SELDOM\NO, OFTEN/YES or SOMETIMES. Some friends just answered the question, others who answered sometimes gave an explanation like Yes, Grandparents…or just my father or mother…a few sent me a private message! 69 respondents….29 seldom/no, 9 sometimes and 32 responded with yes and often.
What the results meant to me…. I’m not a hugger until I started hanging out with Unity Village people…I seldom initiate a hug and I think hugging totally represents love from some people; others I see hugging as a habit…it’s just what you do when you greet people. With that in mind, I answered my own question about whether huggers are just more loving people…no, I don’t think so…and thirdly I chuckled because several people who are huggers have never hugged me.
So there you have it! Just know, I may not have hugged you but it does not represent how I feel about you!
Who among us can jump into their shorts, jeans, swim suit, or pajamas everyday with both feet. I’m not talking about bragging rights of which leg we put in first as someone coined the phrase to make us all feel normal and like we belong. Actually I’m waiting for a news report with headlines saying the government is now separating us as a people by who puts their right leg in and who puts their left leg in first….and, of course can turn themselves around.
I joined a writing group a year ago or so…I now call it my beloved writing group, Word Shine…I don’t share any of my writings yet. I have thought about pulling out some of my teen years angst poems….because they deserve it….why, you might ask. Because I learned in this group that it was possible to become more creative, which by the way is my goal, if I start using my non dominant hand to write. This technique exercising, in my case, the right hemisphere of my brain. It was also suggested that I use this “useless” hand to brush my teeth. By the way, I tried that first….no issue…I have an electric toothbrush, no small maneuvers required! SCORE
But for,the last two weeks, I’ve been attempting to do half my morning pages with my left hand. The only thing I can tell about this practice is I’m totally screwed creatively if I use this practice as an indicator. Not only is it not legible but I cannot EVEN form letters correctly while printing. I absolutely can’t figure out how to draw a Y. Try it! Please let me know. I could use some reassurance. BTW Word Shine meeting in a couple hours, I need to dig up my old poems.
I started off my Morning Pages arguing the woulda, shoulda, coulda theory of my life. I think I’m still following “someone” else’s rules…rules that have a home in my ego….rules that I haven’t seen to fit to challenge with the board of directors in my brain!
Today is not the first day I’ve argued that I am very content sitting on the deck, drinking my coffee, plotting death to the cicadas having the intention that I will do nothing today other than read and make notes (bulletpoint notes) about How do I go about killing cicadas).
OMG someday I will be 80 (insert number) and I won’t be able to get around as well and I will regret the decision I made on August 9 2019 at 0900 to just do nothing…what is wrong with me that I don’t want to do anything…everyone else is out there living productive lives and here I sit on my deck doing nothing!
There is a heepa lotta attachment here to shoulda! Then…I thought….I read a lot of books and attend classes each week on changing my thinking….quieting ego thinking and making decisions through the divine spirit in me….keeping my vibrations high, the value of meditating….and I can’t make peace with myself to be content right now…just being in the moment? Right here….right now!
I may just be overthinking…spending too much time outside my head and letting my ego cause me to be off center and causing the energy I’m using on something that doesn’t even deserve a conversation blind me by the steam this useless activity is creating.