* * * I ended up waiting until after ten to go out in the back yard with the drill. Why would I go into the back yard with a drill, you ask? Am I building a small barn to house all the kitties I want to kidnap from the pet store? Am I building a small barn to house Tubby’s tubby ass? Am I building a small building to which to banish Fred’s ass when he gets particularly gassy? Alas, no. None of these are being built in our back yard. I went into the back yard with the drill because years ago I bought a drill attachment (I see that it’s apparently called a “bulb auger”) to dig holes to plant bulbs – it’s an attachment for that very purpose, you see – and forgot that we had it when I planted the daffodil bed last Fall. The daffodil bed, which was really too small for 30 bulbs, and so the daffodils that grew there were all crowded and unhappy. So this time around, each daffodil bulb got plenty of space and it’s own little hole, along with a shot of fertilizer, and topped off with a nice little layer of mulch. If that don’t make ’em happy, nothing will. The entire time I was using the drill – it’s a very powerful drill, have I mentioned? – an obnoxious voice in the back of my head and yelling “LA LA LA. WOULDN’T IT SUCK IF YOU HIT A ROCK OR A PIECE OF CONCRETE AND THE DRILL FLEW UP AND THE BULB-DIGGING PIECE WENT IN YOUR EYE, AND YOU WERE TOO SURPRISED TO STOP PRESSING THE BUTTON, AND SO IT DUG INTO YOUR EYE SOCKET AND SHATTERED IT? WOULDN’T THAT SUCK? HERE, THIS IS WHAT I IMAGINE IT WOULD LOOK LIKE, AND THIS IS HOW I IMAGINE IT WOULD FEEL.” That’s the same voice that, when I’m walking down the stairs with a large armload full of stuff, whispers “Wouldn’t it suck if you fell down the stairs and landed on the top of your head and were paralyzed, and then lived to a ripe old age, wouldn’t that just suck, huh? Especially if you were laying there for hours before the spud got home, and then when she got home, she’d fling the door open and smack you in the top of the head again, and you’d go blind, and you’d be paralyzed and blind and live a really long life. That would just suck, it would.” In any case, I did NOT hit a rock or piece of concrete with the drill, and I did not shatter my eye socket, which I am pleased to report. And I got those damn bulbs planted, and they’d better grow some gorgeous-ass daffodils, is all I have to say.

* * *
I needed to go to the post office this morning, because I never did mail the stuff from last week’s giveaway, and I needed to get that stuff out (you who won that stuff should have it in 2 – 3 days). While I was there, I checked the box, and was amazed to find that since I was there Friday, not only did I get TWENTY-NINE cards, but I also got two packages. Reader Layla sent me:
A smiley-face dish towel, two smiley-face hot pads, a bookmark that says “Shhhh! I’m trying to read” and has a little smiley-face on the dangly part (is there a name for the dangly string part?), AND a 4-color pen with a big-ass smiley-face on top! Reader Layla is just way too cool. (Your proper thank you is on it’s way to you, Layla)
From reader Jenn, a wooden magnet with a picture of Miz Poo on it! Y’all KNOW how much I adore the Poo, and to have my veryown magnet with a picture of her on it? Perfect! Reader Jenn is also way too cool! (And your proper thank you is on the way as well, Jenn!) Not only did I get cool reader mail, but I also got an issue of US Magazine, and the cover just made me drool:
THE WAR IS ON!!!! You know, I about wet my pants when I saw that cover, because it is JUST the sort of thing I love about US. Because whether or not US has the facts right, I know that it’s going to SOUND like it’s all true, and it will be entertaining (because, after all, Britney and Justin had a fucking DANCE-OFF, and could you possibly get any more delightfully cheesy than that? I think not!). I’m not at all embarrassed to admit that US is rapidly becoming my favorite magazine, even more than People or Entertainment Weekly. What can I say? I love the cheese!
* * *
Not only did I get all those damn bulbs planted this morning, but I also got out the steam cleaner and steam-cleaned the area of carpet outside our bedroom door, the guest bedroom door, and the laundry room/ litter box area. That’s the area Fancypants always targeted when he got mad at us and shit outside the litter box (which he hasn’t done in many months, thankyajeezus). I don’t know that there’s any visible difference in the cleanliness of that carpet, but the water I emptied out of the steam cleaner was pretty nasty, so I feel like I got something accomplished. Now all I have to do is clean up the pile of barf someone left under the Christmas tree. I’d like to think they thought of it as a gift to me, but the truth is that someone probably tried eating some fake pine needles, and found them not to his liking.
* * * Miz Poo is always careful to clean between her toes…