Archive for the ‘ Piss and Moan ’ Category

Easter update.

Remember my plans to take it easy and chill out on Easter Sunday?  Well, I was well into doing that and just hanging out in my nightgown cause, hey, I could.  And John won’t be off work until late.  Henrietta plans on staying in bed and watching a DVD of The Stations of The Cross.  So I am on my hands and knees in my raggedy nightgown, scrubbing the bathroom floor, (around the toilet, no less) flitting around the house in my finest lingerie when what happens?  The *&^%$#! doorbell rings.  I looked out the window and I don’t recognize the car, can’t see the front porch from where I am and so I walk over and snatch the door open because whoever is showing up on Easter UNANNOUNCED deserves to see me like this and smell the bleach emminating from my hands and knees.  (Plus they need to be appreciative of the fact that there is no pee on the floor in my guest bathroom.)

There, followed by her SIX children is Henrietta’s grand-daughter.  The one that shows up once or twice every few years.

She said, “Sorry, I didn’t call, I lost the number.”

Dude, we are LISTED.

“We’re just going to pay a short visit.”

I was not the least bit apologetic about my appearance and the state of things.  I told her H was on the bed pan, which she was and the smell of poop probably snuck in and visited her as soon as I went in and hauled her off of it.

*Why does spell check say “snuck” is not a word?  It most certainly is… English According to Krissa.  Look it up.*

Of course then I had to dress her and put her in the wheel chair and the whole nine yards.

Those six kids must have completed the circuit of living room, breakfast area, kitchen, dining room, foyer, living room, breakfast area, kitchen, dining room, foyer… etc., a milliondy-two times.


She got here at 3:00.  It is now 3:53.  She is here to see her Mimi, not me.  I am trying to be ensconced in the riffraff room by myself, only “they” keep running in here.

Soon I will scoop out my eyeballs with a spoon.

I can see into my dining room from here and there are children hiding under the table and pulling the tablecloth down to hide themselves.  I have all my bill paying crap all over the table. (Did I mention I wasn’t expecting company?)  An avalanche of paperwork slid off the table and onto the floor.

Kids scattered like cockroaches.

The bathroom door just opened and kids came out.  If there is pee on the floor in there I will hurt someone.

All I was waiting for was H to do the poo thing so I could put in the DVD for her and I could go and take a bath and clean up for John to come home.

It is 4:10 and I just heard her say that they have to get going.

Now?  How ’bout now?  Oh, come on!  Now?

It’s 4:11 now.

I’m not having fun.  Please comment and tell me about your good holiday experience.



I casually, even innocently, strolled to the cabinet that holds the precious black ground up goodness that gets me through the day.  I reached for the container and put it down on the counter, opened it up and…


This is what I found.  EMPTY. (Note: that word is in italic, bold, caps AND underlined. That is how it sounded in my little caffeine starved head.)

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!  I called John immediately and he dropped the phone cause I was still in screaming mode assured me calmly that he would bring home coffee when he was off work.

It was a very trying day.  I cried when I broke my fingernail and in hindsight that seems a tad dramatic, but at the time, there REALLY WAS NOTHING ELSE TO DO.  My whole day was in capitol letters. The strange little dogs hid from me the whole time.  I choose to think that my not having coffee was…depressing them and they just wanted to hide from… the whole world.  Yeah.  That’s it.

There were headache pills and Henrietta was a pill AND a headache.  I had tea with her and it always does help, but I still needed my coffee!

For once, John’s ridiculously long work day was longer for me than him.  YES IT WAS, JOHN!  Finally he came home and “delivered the goods”.  No.  That is not a sexy euphemism.  He brought the coffee and he KNEW that there was no coming home without it.  As a matter of fact he had to show me the bag of perfectly ground beans before he was allowed through the door.  I snatched the bag and ran to see my best friend the coffee maker.  With trembling hands, (and a silent prayer that John would quit trying to kiss me hello- Don’t make that face! He was getting in my way!), I carefully scooped the grounds right out of the bag into the precious magic machine.  Turned on the water right next to the maker of miracles and stretched out the faucet hose to fill it with water.  With a quivering finger I pushed the “ON” button.  Tears of joy escaped down my face as the tortured day came to an end and the black liquid gold ran into the pot.  Soon I was pouring a cup and blowing frantically/burning my tongue because I couldn’t wait.  I didn’t care.  The best reason to burn my tongue ever.

Today?  Got up, made coffee, ran the dishwasher, read the paper…  You know, same ol’, same ol’…

Free toes, everybody!

Well, it’s all over and I am glad that life is going back to semi-normal.  John is back at work and that store is TORE UP.  At least it was when we had to go up there twice yesterday to check on it.

That’s how weird his employer’s are.  This is a huge national chain that, for the most part has all their stores staying open 24/7.  They close at 4:00pm on Thanksgiving day and are closed on Christmas day.

And that’s it.

They apparently don’t remember what it’s like to just close every night like regular folk do and are completely freaked out paranoid at the thought of any of their stores being left uninhabited for an entire day and night.  So all the stores have to have a manager go up there twice during the day of Christmas and walk through the entire thing, checking all the coolers to see if for some bizarre reason they have stopped working and go through all the bathrooms and backrooms and storage closets and walk-in freezers and coolers and behind all the counters of this 88,000 sq. ft. store looking for… I don’t know what.  It’s ridiculous.

Did I mention they’re paranoid?

He’s gotten it all back in shape by now and he’s off tomorrow, so… YEAAA!

Yesterday was a success.  I decided that I was scaling back a lot and not breaking out every single specialty  Kes and I could whip out.  Turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, rolls, pumpkin pie (1), dressing, gravy, and I think that’s it. It was bare minimum.

On Christmas Eve I finally heard from SIL late in the day and I asked her to bring the green vegetables.  She told me that H had asked her to make a roast the day before and she was going to bring that, too.

OK, fine.

She showed up and had a piece of meat that she later admitted having got at some Mexican meat market and she had no idea what cut it was, but it was NOT a roast.  Tough. As. Shoe. Leather.

She also just said, “I didn’t bring the vegetables.”

That was the only thing I asked her for.

We had her, and her “friend” that she didn’t tell me was coming, her 4 grown kids, along with one of the kids boyfriend, (also didn’t know was coming), and her two grandkids.   So an extra 11 people for supper.

It was interesting.

Anyway, things went along fairly well and it was all over almost as soon as it had begun.  The two nieces of John’s that have 5 and 6 kids a piece didn’t call or show, (thank you God), so it could have been much worse and much more crowded.

Last night we were taking bets on how the “roast” was going to affect H’s “delicate digestive system”.  She went with indigestion and saying that “…it was that roast…it was greasy… she should have boiled it longer.”  There was nothing greasy about that dried up hunk of ass meat.  But I won’t be telling Henrietta that.   Some nasty stuff, that. 😉

Well, the SIL showed up today.  She hasn’t been here to visit H in a few weeks.  In her defense, (and it doesn’t happen often that I say anything in her defense…), she is without a car right now.  Of course that doesn’t stop her from timing her visit to coincide with my finishing up getting H off the pot and cleaned up.  Somehow she is never here in time to do the potty for HER mother.  It happens at almost the exact same time everyday, and she knows this.  Well, at least she dressed her and drug her into the wheelchair.

I am now hiding in the bedroom and giving her the opportunity to spend some time with her.

Just went in there for coffee and SIL is watching a sappy movie on Lifetime and H is reading the newspaper.  Oh well.  So much for communication.

I think I will go and fetch the broom, and mop stuff and clean the floor in my bathroom as I washed all the bathmats yesterday and I HATE putting them down on the disgusting, hairy, powdery, floor.

Did that, just waiting for the shine stuff to dry and then the rugs go down.

Gee, I can’t believe I have sunk to the point that I am offering blow by blow action on the housecleaning.

SIL left after staying about an hour and 45 minutes.  I guess that’s all she felt she was capable of today.

John is at work having MORE company and a Holiday Open House today.  So I haven’t really heard anything from him.  Oh!  He did let me know yesterday that his boss convinced the bigger boss that he can’t live without him and not to move him.  That’s great, as she would have put him in a far away store in Pearland with a unit director that runs it who has been requesting him.  Loooong commute.

And the thing that tops off everything in this gripping tale that I know you aren’t the least bit sorry you tuned into:

Today I sewed a button on my pants, (are you ready for this?), WHILE I WAS WEARING THEM.

Damn, my days are something to just try to imagine….

Today’s the day I get my glasses!  John is off work, so I have a way to get there and we just have to wait until one of the girls is here to stay with Henrietta.  It’s going to be wonderful to have a pair to wear all the time, because I can’t tell you how tired I am of not having the readers where I am trying to read at the moment, they’re always in another room.  Or maybe it’s me that’s always in the other room, after all I am the one that’s given to roaming around the house, not them.

OK, it’s now 10:55 PM and I am home with the new glasses on.  They aren’t that confusing, but I am not sure they were…”done” right.  When something is right straight in front of me it is very clear, but when I have to look slightly off to one side, either way, it is blurry.  I don’t mean very far either.  It seems to be this way with the far away vision, the mid range and the reading, all.  If I am reading a magazine and there are three columns of print, while having my head positioned looking straight at the first column the one on the far right is so blurry I can’t read it well at all.  I have to move my head or the magazine.  Is this asking too much of a pair of glasses.  I’ve never noticed anyone reading a book having to move their head in order to read across the page.

I think they didn’t “do” the prescription all the way across.

Well, God knows I have debated about this, but here’s a damn picture:

Somehow, at this point in my life, the “smart chick” look doesn’t bother me at all.  Not sure I can pull it off once I open my mouth, but up until then, I think the glasses I picked out help with the illusion.

They told me to wear them for a week and see what I think.  I think I’m going to call them tomorrow and ask why I have to be laser-sighted on target and physically aimed at anything I want to see clearly.

Now, I have to find someone to do something about those chipmunk cheeks.

OH!  Before I end this, I have a confession!  No!  Nothing juicy!  No, what I did today was make it over to Lisa’s AGAIN two days in a row now and I was going to take pictures of her gutted kitchen.  We went and visited and left and I forgot to take the pictures.  Got my glasses and went home and then remembered I needed to take them so John and I went back over to Lisa’s house AGAIN.  Got over there and looked in my purse for my trusty(?) camera and I had left it at home.

I really do think God didn’t want me to take any pictures today, cause he obviously made me very forgetful for some reason.