I hate it when They are right
Even though I didn't feel well this morning, and let my daughter sleep in well beyond school starting time, I went to the gym.
Dammit, why must it be that exercising and eating slightly better (and slightly less) really
does make me feel better? And if so, why do I know it will be so hard to sustain?
We did several hours of gardening yesterday. I hate gardening. I was diligent about the sunscreen...except for the back of my neck, which is now uncomfortably warm and unattractively red. But the yard does look better, and I feel good for having a) been outside; and b) done something that needed to be done. Plus I "cleaned my oven," an arduous task involving pushing the 'self-clean' button and then waiting to be sure the door is correctly locked and that the bad, bad cats can't get on the stovetop and fry their toesies.
I did reward myself with a nice glass of Knob Creek after my daughter went to bed...I'm not quite ready to take the vows of asceticism.
Labels: household management, whole lotta nothing
Caffeine-high/ku
The rat man calleth;
He will kill the suckers dead.
With so little pain.
Rat man tells me, "This
has been going on for years.
It is not your fault."
"Oh, rat man," I say,
"I love you more than I love
sweet baby jesus."
I hang up, feeling
rescued by my gallant knight
with bait pellets and death fog.
* * *I am becoming
enamored of the haiku--
its five-seven-five.
Labels: debtors prison, household management, poetic stylings
Year of the rat: a haiku tale and a letter (or two)
Rat man calls; he says
He needs 2 Gs to rid me
of newest tenants.
Dear Mastercard folks:
What do you mean, I can't use
twice credit limit?
Dear tenants: I need
for you to live with rodents
for just a short while.
Dear George W:
Send that f*&%ing refund check.
Your only good deed.
Labels: debtors prison, household management, poetic stylings
Update from the trenches
Just for the record: the rental-house plumbing/sewer work is complete, although the work continues at the sidewalk on the line out to the city-owned main.
My credit-card balance has just become officially
astronomical, with further cataclysmic damage to come.
And that
{impending major life-event that is supposed to take place in the house}?
Nope. Nothing yet.
Labels: amateur real-estate mogul, domestic dramas, household management
Addenda to rental agreement
1. Do NOT ignore the move-in letter I sent, in which I expressly mentioned the age, fragility, and likely-impending major repairs of the sewer system and asked that you a) NOT attempt any home fixes (Drano, etc.), and then tell me that *I* "miscommunicated" with you. Especially when you put up with the problem for a week and forced me to call out the weekend plumber. It's in the lease you signed, brainiac.
2. When your wife has said "uh-huh, okay, that's fine" repeatedly in conversations about how and when I am addressing the problem, don't get all blustery about how "in her condition" I shouldn't be "hassling" her. She could simply have asked me to call you.
3. Don't get belligerent about how "you didn't realize you needed to check with the landlord" about
{major impending life event you are planning to have take place in the house}. Do you really want to experience
{major impending life event you are planning to have take place in the house} without running water or flushing toilets, or with standing sewage outside?
4. Don't
start the conversation by threatening to cancel expensive repair job if
{major impending life event you are planning to have take place in the house} becomes a reality.
5. DO act appreciative when I spend an extra hour on the phone with the project manager working on ways to mitigate the necessary annoyance of major work that needs to be done immediately and offer to be "on-call" to you for the duration of the work.
6. DO express gratitude for my sensitivity to
{major impending life event you are planning to have take place in the house}. The phrase "welcome to the family" was a nice touch!
Labels: happy endings, household management, master of negotiation
Worser and Worser
The plumbing bills are quickly approaching 10K,
without the weekend's emergency service. And we'll see what the going rate for the Pied Piper is...
Yes, I know I'm boring. I'm also bitter, worried, and broke. I'm almost alliterative.
My own private recession has just become a major depression.
Damn home-ownership. What a dumb idea. Especially in this market.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Labels: household management, plumbing nightmares; doom and gloom
Dear Mr. Netflix
Dear Mr. Netflix:
I wish to inform you most humbly and with utmost apology that my dog seems to have eaten "The Queen." I realize she was arriving today, and I had set out the tea cozies, prepared the scones and clotted cream, and polished the silver. Unfortunately, she seems to have arrived while the house was unattended (except by the dog; see above). Perhaps she is simply lost in transit, and you can notify her of my address via her royal GPS. However, the presence of oblong silver plastic pieces, many with tooth-marks, and the tattered shreds of slightly damp red and white paper would appear to indicate her untimely end at the jaws of my otherwise abundantly friendly pitbull-mix. Perhaps it was the whole Corgi thing. He hates Corgis, and I must confess, I don't see the point of putting a big dog head on that short, stumpy body. Plus, they don't seem to
realize that they are funny looking, and so they always manage to be arrogant and offensive, especially after one-too-many pints at the pub.
Please tell the people of England that I am really, really sorry--and so is my dog. As an apology, we will be donating the leftovers from our high tea to a food bank in London, if we can afford the refrigerated shipping.
Really, we are
most embarrassed, and we are sorry that this sorry fate didn't befall that "last king of scotland guy" (who, by the way, was never
shown among his Scottish subjects, which made the movie very confusing. And I have not had any luck in discovering just how he was related to Mary, Queen of Scots. I don't mean to complain, but I have a pretty good handle on my European history, and except for maybe Napoleon III (okay, there were those rumors about Hitler), I am pretty sure none of the monarchs I studied were people of color. And by the way, what happened to the kid with epilepsy?). At least the scottish guy genuinely
deserved to be eaten.
Sincerely yours,
Dorcasina
P.S. Can I keep the slightly dented tiara I found under the couch?
Labels: household management, monarchy
