Whenever I come home...
...no matter how long I’ve been gone...whether I’ve been gone for ten minutes or for ten days...two things are certain. My son will have left the same dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and he will have lowered the height of the chair at my desk.
Don’t you love that little surprise? Your purposeful movement gives way to gravity and for just a split second...you think the chair is gone.
Earlier, I spent a rather long time peeing. I hadn’t peed since South Carolina and I’ve been drinking truck stop cappuccino all afternoon so I had to go a LOT. I was sitting there for so long that I grabbed a bottle of Lime-A-Way and started to read it. I was so in to it that I kept on reading long after I had finished peeing. There I was with my pants down, reading the bottle and dripping. I risked that “I’ve been sitting on the toilet for so long that my legs have gone numb” thing just so I could read the back of the Lime-A-Way bottle.
There were a few things about the Lime-A-Way that annoyed me. First of all, the cap is so fricking stupid that it needs directions and THAT in itself is imprudent. Secondly, the directions don't help one little bit.
The next time you have access to a bottle of Lime-A-Way, look at the dumb cap. Then, read the back where it tells you how to open the stupid thing. This is what it says, “...use your fingernail or pen and apply slight backward pressure to the ridge of flip top.”
I don’t know which part of the thing is the “ridge” and I’m not breaking a nail trying to figure it out. Then it says not to use the stuff in coffeemakers that “hold water permanently”. I didn’t even know that was an option. Nor did I know that you would use this acidic preparation in a washing machine. I’ve never had a washer get so dirty that I needed acid to clean it.
I could have used it on some of the things that Rick put in the dirty clothes...but not on the machine itself.
Aw...I shouldn’t pick on Rick...I should work harder on trying to make our divorce a happy one. Divorce is a lifelong commitment and I’m going to do my darndest to make ours work.
A healthy divorce takes effort and dedication. You owe it to your spouse to work hard at making it last forever. I haven’t heard any statistics regarding divorce failure rates but I hope that Rick and I can be successfully divorced, till death do we make each other miserable.
Oh well, I am happy to be home...even with the dirty dishes in the sink. But, when I got here I was locked out. That’s always fun...isn’t it? I thought my son would be here, worried that I might be out stuck in the snow somewhere between Atlanta and Bumfuck North Carolina.
But instead, he was out having fun and the hidden emergency key was gone so I wandered around the house in the dark going from window to window trying to get in. The dog didn’t even try to run away. He wanted to get inside as badly as I did so he just stood next to me waiting for access to “home”.
Usually when I’m locked out of my house, I climb in through my bedroom window. I keep a chair out back for just that purpose but for some reason it was gone. I had to stand on an upside-down plastic planter and reach up. I should have found something more stable than a plastic planter. It collapsed underneath me and I fell back onto my ass. Since it was dark I couldn’t SEE any spiders...but I knew they were there somewhere.
It was rather exasperating because, as I mentioned earlier, I hadn’t peed since South Carolina. I considered squatting behind the house but I can’t pee outside. I never have been able to. Growing up in Chicago, it was never an issue but since I’ve moved to the South, it’s come up quite a few times. I never heard a man say, “Just pee behind that bush.” until I moved to the South. Then, when I balk, Southern men are a bit taken aback.
“Why not?” they always seem to ask.
“Because I don’t want something to bite me in the ass.” I always answer.
Apparently, Southern women pee outside more than Northern women. Now, I don’t want to hear from every modest woman South of the Mason-Dixon Line...I’m sure that you don’t ALL pee outside. But, the number of Southern men who have expected me to pee outside, and their reaction when I refuse, has me thinking that quite a few of you DO, indeed, pee outside.
And yes, I’m sure that given the right set of circumstances, or a LOT of beer, I would probably pee outside myself. But, I try to avoid situations where that might be necessary.
All this pee talk has me needing to go again. I hope there’s something good to read in there. OH! There’s the entire feminine hygiene series! I better go get started on that.
See ya!
Meg
Oh, by the way, I still can't remember the password to my email and according to G-mail policy, I have to try again in 5 days. They'll only ask you the security question after your account has been inactive for 5 days. So, for now I have to keep using sarah.rofsted@gmail.com. And...if there's anyone out there who would like one of these hyper-secure G-mail accounts, let me know and I'll send you an invite. For some reason, people pay for them at e-Bay...I'll send you one for nothing if you email me. Ciao.
...no matter how long I’ve been gone...whether I’ve been gone for ten minutes or for ten days...two things are certain. My son will have left the same dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and he will have lowered the height of the chair at my desk.
Don’t you love that little surprise? Your purposeful movement gives way to gravity and for just a split second...you think the chair is gone.
Earlier, I spent a rather long time peeing. I hadn’t peed since South Carolina and I’ve been drinking truck stop cappuccino all afternoon so I had to go a LOT. I was sitting there for so long that I grabbed a bottle of Lime-A-Way and started to read it. I was so in to it that I kept on reading long after I had finished peeing. There I was with my pants down, reading the bottle and dripping. I risked that “I’ve been sitting on the toilet for so long that my legs have gone numb” thing just so I could read the back of the Lime-A-Way bottle.
There were a few things about the Lime-A-Way that annoyed me. First of all, the cap is so fricking stupid that it needs directions and THAT in itself is imprudent. Secondly, the directions don't help one little bit.
The next time you have access to a bottle of Lime-A-Way, look at the dumb cap. Then, read the back where it tells you how to open the stupid thing. This is what it says, “...use your fingernail or pen and apply slight backward pressure to the ridge of flip top.”
I don’t know which part of the thing is the “ridge” and I’m not breaking a nail trying to figure it out. Then it says not to use the stuff in coffeemakers that “hold water permanently”. I didn’t even know that was an option. Nor did I know that you would use this acidic preparation in a washing machine. I’ve never had a washer get so dirty that I needed acid to clean it.
I could have used it on some of the things that Rick put in the dirty clothes...but not on the machine itself.
Aw...I shouldn’t pick on Rick...I should work harder on trying to make our divorce a happy one. Divorce is a lifelong commitment and I’m going to do my darndest to make ours work.
A healthy divorce takes effort and dedication. You owe it to your spouse to work hard at making it last forever. I haven’t heard any statistics regarding divorce failure rates but I hope that Rick and I can be successfully divorced, till death do we make each other miserable.
Oh well, I am happy to be home...even with the dirty dishes in the sink. But, when I got here I was locked out. That’s always fun...isn’t it? I thought my son would be here, worried that I might be out stuck in the snow somewhere between Atlanta and Bumfuck North Carolina.
But instead, he was out having fun and the hidden emergency key was gone so I wandered around the house in the dark going from window to window trying to get in. The dog didn’t even try to run away. He wanted to get inside as badly as I did so he just stood next to me waiting for access to “home”.
Usually when I’m locked out of my house, I climb in through my bedroom window. I keep a chair out back for just that purpose but for some reason it was gone. I had to stand on an upside-down plastic planter and reach up. I should have found something more stable than a plastic planter. It collapsed underneath me and I fell back onto my ass. Since it was dark I couldn’t SEE any spiders...but I knew they were there somewhere.
It was rather exasperating because, as I mentioned earlier, I hadn’t peed since South Carolina. I considered squatting behind the house but I can’t pee outside. I never have been able to. Growing up in Chicago, it was never an issue but since I’ve moved to the South, it’s come up quite a few times. I never heard a man say, “Just pee behind that bush.” until I moved to the South. Then, when I balk, Southern men are a bit taken aback.
“Why not?” they always seem to ask.
“Because I don’t want something to bite me in the ass.” I always answer.
Apparently, Southern women pee outside more than Northern women. Now, I don’t want to hear from every modest woman South of the Mason-Dixon Line...I’m sure that you don’t ALL pee outside. But, the number of Southern men who have expected me to pee outside, and their reaction when I refuse, has me thinking that quite a few of you DO, indeed, pee outside.
And yes, I’m sure that given the right set of circumstances, or a LOT of beer, I would probably pee outside myself. But, I try to avoid situations where that might be necessary.
All this pee talk has me needing to go again. I hope there’s something good to read in there. OH! There’s the entire feminine hygiene series! I better go get started on that.
See ya!
Meg
Oh, by the way, I still can't remember the password to my email and according to G-mail policy, I have to try again in 5 days. They'll only ask you the security question after your account has been inactive for 5 days. So, for now I have to keep using sarah.rofsted@gmail.com. And...if there's anyone out there who would like one of these hyper-secure G-mail accounts, let me know and I'll send you an invite. For some reason, people pay for them at e-Bay...I'll send you one for nothing if you email me. Ciao.
posted by Meg Kelso | 10:07 PM
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