recapping The Newlyweds!
And also, Nance has gone un-passworded, so I don’t have to strain my brain every time I go to her site!
Lastly, Pamie has herself a blog. I find that to actually see the whole blog I have to reduce the IE window size and then maximize it. I have no idea why it works, only that it does.
It’s a good day, indeed.
* * *
Fred came upstairs this morning after I thought he’d left for work and made me get up and get my nightgown on and come downstairs with him. (He also made fun of me for walking funny because I can’t completely straighten my legs due to Wednesday’s lower body workout kicking my calves’ ass) He opened the back door and invited me to step outside. And that’s when I felt it. Finally. The very first Fall coolness in the air.
Time to get out the sweaters!
* * *
Every once in a while, when he’s trying to cough up a hairball, Tubby will make this high-pitched sound, and it sounds EXACTLY like he’s saying “Mama.”
It’s fucking creepy as hell and every time it happens it takes me by surprise and the hair on the back of my neck stands up, and it’s all I can do not to run screaming down the street, even once I know what’s making the sound.
I can’t even describe to you how creepy it is. It’s so creepy that just thinking about it creeps me out.
Last night, Fred and I were laying in bed talking (just talking, Nance!)(heh), and during a moment of silence a long, squeaky sound began and went on and on and on. It sounded like it was coming from the far corner of the room – which is where I’d last seen Tubby – and every muscle in my body locked. I held my breath while it went on (and on!), and when it ended Fred said nothing.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” I shrieked, sure that Fred was as freaked out as I was.
He started laughing. “I was making a whistling sound through my teeth!”
Freak.
* * *
There’s a cricket somewhere in the computer room, and every now and then he sings a little song for me. If I could locate him, I’d shoo him into a big cup and take him outside, but his little song kind of echoes around the room, so I’m at a loss.
I’m sure we’ll find either his dead body in a few days, or cricket legs spread across the floor culminating in a pile of kitty vomit.
Something to look forward to.
* * *
1. What housekeeping chore(s) do you hate doing the most? I’m not terribly fond of any of it, really, although I’d say cleaning the bathroom ranks pretty high on the list. I’ve only done it once since I got home from Maine – I’m waiting for Fred to start whining about how nasty it’s looking before I actually get off my ass and clean it, though. The thing that pisses me off about cleaning the house is that as soon as it’s done, it needs to be done again. I need to win me the lottery so I can hire full-time cleaners. A full-time chef, too, while I’m at it. That said, I do keep the kitchen fairly decent, and pretty much keep on top of the laundry.
2. Are there any that you like or don’t mind doing? Actually, no. I hate it all. I vacuum more often than anything else, because getting the cluster of dust bunnies off the floor always makes the house look cleaner than it is.
3. Do you have a routine throughout the week or just clean as it’s needed? Every now and then I think “Monday I’ll clean the upstairs. Wednesday I’ll clean the downstairs. Thursday I’ll do laundry. What a plan!”, and then Monday I clean the upstairs, and Wednesday I say “Fuck it.” When the voice in my head with it’s “GodDAMN it looks nasty in here, are we EVER going to clean?!?!” gets unbearable, I clean. Luckily I’m pretty good at ignoring that voice.
4. Do you have any odd cleaning/housekeeping quirks or rules? I don’t think so – maybe my insistence on shining around the sink when I clean the kitchen is a little quirky.
5. What was the last thing you cleaned? Myself! I took a shower this morning! Heh. Uh, last thing I cleaned in the house… Dishes. I did dishes earlier, and wiped down the kitchen counters. So there!
* * *
This is Miz Poo’s “Mother, may I have some love?” look.
Every night while we eat dinner, Spanky flops down in the sun and washes himself…
..stops to see what’s going on (nothing)…
And washes himself some more.
* * *
Previously
2002: FUCKING telemarketers.
2001: I turned to Fred and said “He looks all dilemmanated, doesn’t he?”
2000: Trip to Tennessee.]]>