JD is out and about this weekend doing nerd things. Not that I'm not a nerd. I am. But we are differently nerdy. That's not my point. My point is that I'm solo this weekend, for a few more hours anyway. I desperately needed some alone time. As an introvert, just being around people is tiring for me, even if they're people I love dearly. And so I look forward to my occasional days on my own.
Ironically as soon as JD clears the doorstep I miss him. Despite the four cats and two dogs, the house is too quiet. I suddenly have oodles of free time and nothing to do. It seems like when I have time to sit and think, I never think about positive things. I dwell. When I *don't* have time to think, I manage to eke out a few thoughts, a blog post, an email, and I'm creative. I come up with solutions. I make jokes. I'm just generally more proficient.
Why is it that I have to be a little annoyed to be proficient?
So I'm sitting here in my quiet household. I had planned to go see Pluto, then stop by DeLee's and pick her up on my way to RoadRunner Sports, to try to find replacement trail runners because my current model had been discontinued. And then we were going to stop in at the Perfect Pour to see if they had any gluten free beers I hadn't tried, and maybe pick up some hard ciders. And DeLee was going to feed me some of the super hot chili she had just made. An excellent plan for a Sunday. And the weather is great, which always makes me happy.
I remembered that the oil light had come on in Eddy (again.) The first time the light came on (a couple of weeks ago), it went right back out. I checked the oil and it wasn't low, so I discussed it with JD but put the issue on the back burner. It came on again yesterday when I started the car. Fortunately I wasn't far from home, so I drove it the two miles back. But I intend to drive it no farther than the mechanic's shop before I find out what's wrong with it. Oil pressure sensor? Oil filter? Something more evil?
The backup vehicle is Rabies, JD's truck. I grabbed the horse cookies from Eddy and trudged through Shirley's yard to Rabies. And cranked the ignition, and got that disappointing "Rurr,rurr,.. thud" of a nearly dead battery. Something isn't right with the truck. JD put a deep cycle battery in it last year so it can be recharged if it runs low, but it's running low far too often. I don't think that the truck is charging the battery at all. Sigh.
I trudged back through Shirley's yard and dropped the horse cookies and my mug of coffee onto the roof of the Miata, and went inside to find the keys for it. No keys were visible. I texted JD. "Where are the keys to the Miata?" ... "In my pocket." Well, crap. The search for the spare key revealed nothing, other than that a Chrysler key and a house key were in the bottom of the umbrella bucket. Also, there were 10 hiking poles in the umbrella bucket. I may have a pole problem.
The only remaining car, other than the one JD is driving, doesn't have brakes at the moment.
I figured I'd tell DeLee she'd have to drive, but right about then she texted me that she wasn't feeling well.
You know what? I may not take the first clue, but if you hit me upside the head with enough clue bats, I will eventually figure out what's going on. The universe is saying something to me. It's saying "STAY HOME" and it's saying it pretty loudly. Once I recognized this, I gave in. Fine, universe. I'll stay home today. Today shall be a day of rest. A zero day, in hiker parlance. I don't know why, exactly, the universe needs me to be at home today, but at home I will be.
Showing posts with label why why why. Show all posts
Showing posts with label why why why. Show all posts
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Sunday, December 30, 2012
I am not a morning person
I am dumb as a stump for about two hours after I wake up. Coffee makes me more alert, but not smart. For example, this morning I had already made and started drinking coffee, and yet I *almost* drank egg beaters out of the measuring cup I had poured it into. As such, I do quite a bit the night before to try to make sure that I don't have the opportunity to make stupid mistakes in the morning.
The night before, I:
1) Lay out clothing. This will not prevent me from putting on my shirt inside out or my pants on backward. No, I'm not kidding.
2) Put out coffee K-cups to make first thing.
3) Lay out a can of catfood, two bowls, and a spoon.
4) Leave myself notes and hope that I read and comprehend them.
5) Put together as much of my lunch as I can.
6) Put anything that needs to go to work into my lunch box. If it is only lunchbox-adjacent, there is a very good chance that it isn't leaving the house.
I make up my morning vitamins two weeks in advance so I just pop open that day's vitamins.
If things that need to go with me will fit in a grocery bag, I can try hanging them from the front doorknob. Sometimes that will work.
I try to leave some things until after I have had a while to get up to speed, such as
1) Putting on shoes. (I have shown up at work wearing one hiking boot and one running shoe before.)
2) Brushing teeth. (So I don't brush my teeth with something that comes out of a tube but isn't toothpaste.)
3) Answering email. Or Facebooking. Either one may end up with completely random output if done before I'm really awake.
4) Talking to people, including my husband. See 3).
Once I get up to speed I am intensely aggravated at all the stupid things I did in the morning. As far as I know, there is nothing to be done for it but try to make my morning as pre-prepared as possible. It gives me sympathy for people who are stupid all the time. It's not like it's their fault. Just like it's not my fault that I'm completely incompetent for two hours every day.
The night before, I:
1) Lay out clothing. This will not prevent me from putting on my shirt inside out or my pants on backward. No, I'm not kidding.
2) Put out coffee K-cups to make first thing.
3) Lay out a can of catfood, two bowls, and a spoon.
4) Leave myself notes and hope that I read and comprehend them.
5) Put together as much of my lunch as I can.
6) Put anything that needs to go to work into my lunch box. If it is only lunchbox-adjacent, there is a very good chance that it isn't leaving the house.
I make up my morning vitamins two weeks in advance so I just pop open that day's vitamins.
If things that need to go with me will fit in a grocery bag, I can try hanging them from the front doorknob. Sometimes that will work.
I try to leave some things until after I have had a while to get up to speed, such as
1) Putting on shoes. (I have shown up at work wearing one hiking boot and one running shoe before.)
2) Brushing teeth. (So I don't brush my teeth with something that comes out of a tube but isn't toothpaste.)
3) Answering email. Or Facebooking. Either one may end up with completely random output if done before I'm really awake.
4) Talking to people, including my husband. See 3).
Once I get up to speed I am intensely aggravated at all the stupid things I did in the morning. As far as I know, there is nothing to be done for it but try to make my morning as pre-prepared as possible. It gives me sympathy for people who are stupid all the time. It's not like it's their fault. Just like it's not my fault that I'm completely incompetent for two hours every day.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Pervy dog brings our clothes out of the closet.
I just can't hide it anymore. The Schnork has a problem. She's a perv.
At first she was rummaging in the laundry for my underwear. Mortified, I brought in a tall laundry bin with a lid and started putting my underthings in it. Because I'm not comfortable with anybody licking my underwear, that's why. But apparently it wasn't about me. Because the Schnork started finding JD's boxer shorts.
And so now I regularly wake up with a pair of my husband's boxer shorts on the sheepskin next to my side of the bed, and not because we've been doing the nasty. No, the Schnork has been getting nasty. I can't imagine what the attraction is of a used pair of underwear, but apparently it's obvious to the Schnork. Sometimes I hear her rummaging around in the laundry, and I sleepily remonstrate. "Schnork! You stop that!" And then she pauses until I fall back asleep.
As far as I can tell, she isn't destroying our underwear. She's just... licking it. Lovingly.
I haven't had a dog with this particular perversion before. I have no idea what to do. I mean, how do you shame a pervert? She doesn't care. She has no shame. This is the same dog who schnorks at me until I pick her up and stroke her naked belly until she falls asleep and starts shnoring on my chest. I have nothing to work with.
Have I mentioned recently how good the Schnork is making Beauty look? Beauty is a saint. All she wants is the occasional sweet potato treat and to get scritched behind her ears at bedtime. The Schnork finally trained us not to make her go outside, which means she excretes indoors at all times. And she only mostly hits the wee pad. Sometimes she is only wee pad adjacent. You know what's fun? Trying to pick up a wee pad so that the wet parts on the underneath don't drip. We need to buy stock in the pee-destroying enzyme company.
Do you have a pervy dog? More importantly, do you have a previously pervy dog? What did you do about it? Did it involve cayenne peppers? We have questions.
At first she was rummaging in the laundry for my underwear. Mortified, I brought in a tall laundry bin with a lid and started putting my underthings in it. Because I'm not comfortable with anybody licking my underwear, that's why. But apparently it wasn't about me. Because the Schnork started finding JD's boxer shorts.
And so now I regularly wake up with a pair of my husband's boxer shorts on the sheepskin next to my side of the bed, and not because we've been doing the nasty. No, the Schnork has been getting nasty. I can't imagine what the attraction is of a used pair of underwear, but apparently it's obvious to the Schnork. Sometimes I hear her rummaging around in the laundry, and I sleepily remonstrate. "Schnork! You stop that!" And then she pauses until I fall back asleep.
As far as I can tell, she isn't destroying our underwear. She's just... licking it. Lovingly.
I haven't had a dog with this particular perversion before. I have no idea what to do. I mean, how do you shame a pervert? She doesn't care. She has no shame. This is the same dog who schnorks at me until I pick her up and stroke her naked belly until she falls asleep and starts shnoring on my chest. I have nothing to work with.
Have I mentioned recently how good the Schnork is making Beauty look? Beauty is a saint. All she wants is the occasional sweet potato treat and to get scritched behind her ears at bedtime. The Schnork finally trained us not to make her go outside, which means she excretes indoors at all times. And she only mostly hits the wee pad. Sometimes she is only wee pad adjacent. You know what's fun? Trying to pick up a wee pad so that the wet parts on the underneath don't drip. We need to buy stock in the pee-destroying enzyme company.
Do you have a pervy dog? More importantly, do you have a previously pervy dog? What did you do about it? Did it involve cayenne peppers? We have questions.
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