Hi,
I may go out with a friend this evening, I hope so. I get so absolutely insane just sitting in this house all the time. It's OK for the first two weeks but after that, I start to get claustrophobic and the place seems to get smaller all the time.
I need to go up in my attic and find my kitchen curtains. For some reason, when I was in jail my son took them down and put them up in the attic. He said that they were dirty but unless he was conducting some type of chemistry experiment, they couldn't have been THAT dirty. The last time I washed them I didn't want to iron the suckers so I went to the dry cleaner and asked what they charged. 80 bucks. Isn't that ridiculous? They only cost 120, I could find some on sale for less than it would cost to have them pressed. I had a brain fart and bought kitchen curtains with embriodered flowers that have petals that stick out and you can't just iron them flatly and easily so it's a bitch to do but it's not as though I'm headed to a cotillion or something like that so I guess I could just spend a couple of hours ironing them.
You'll be pleased to know that my house is clean. Now I guess it's time to mess it up. I haven't decided how I'd like to make a mess but sex would be good. Generally that doesn't mess up more than the sheets but with a little imagination I could probably manage more. Just one thing missing, that's the other person. I suppose I should be a bit more independent but I hate a sore arm.
There was a bumblebee in my hallway yesterday. Rick should have been here to take care of that but I had to. First, I put a mason jar on it and then I tried to put a book onto that to keep it from falling over but that wouldn't work so I slipped a card under it and then I took it, screaming, outside and released it into the wild. I hope it wasn't one of those africanized suckers.
There isn't much for me to do on the weekend when my house is clean. Yard work is always an option but there has to be a man somewhere who can take care of that. I don't mind housework but I hate the yard work crap. I was raised in an interesting yet fucked up era. I was the last of the generation of women who took home ec classes without the boys. We were raised to be housewives and then when we got old enough, we were told that we needed to have a career to be completely self actualized. My father actually told me that he wasn't sending me to college because he had three boys to put through school and I would just end up pregnant and it would have been a waste of money. Then, I tried to go into the Army and he said...and I quote..."If I thought that a daughter of mine had nothing better to do with her life than go into the Army, I would be highly disappointed."
Ain't that a bitch? And I was just stupid enough to listen to him. After all that, I did get married and pregnant...three times. But I went to school anyway, on my own with three kids. Sometimes I wonder how I accomplished so much and what happened to the chick who did all of that.
OK, I have to primp a bit, if my friend does come over it will be the first person to see me in a while so I shouldn't be sitting around in my jammies.
Ciao,
Meg
I may go out with a friend this evening, I hope so. I get so absolutely insane just sitting in this house all the time. It's OK for the first two weeks but after that, I start to get claustrophobic and the place seems to get smaller all the time.
I need to go up in my attic and find my kitchen curtains. For some reason, when I was in jail my son took them down and put them up in the attic. He said that they were dirty but unless he was conducting some type of chemistry experiment, they couldn't have been THAT dirty. The last time I washed them I didn't want to iron the suckers so I went to the dry cleaner and asked what they charged. 80 bucks. Isn't that ridiculous? They only cost 120, I could find some on sale for less than it would cost to have them pressed. I had a brain fart and bought kitchen curtains with embriodered flowers that have petals that stick out and you can't just iron them flatly and easily so it's a bitch to do but it's not as though I'm headed to a cotillion or something like that so I guess I could just spend a couple of hours ironing them.
You'll be pleased to know that my house is clean. Now I guess it's time to mess it up. I haven't decided how I'd like to make a mess but sex would be good. Generally that doesn't mess up more than the sheets but with a little imagination I could probably manage more. Just one thing missing, that's the other person. I suppose I should be a bit more independent but I hate a sore arm.
There was a bumblebee in my hallway yesterday. Rick should have been here to take care of that but I had to. First, I put a mason jar on it and then I tried to put a book onto that to keep it from falling over but that wouldn't work so I slipped a card under it and then I took it, screaming, outside and released it into the wild. I hope it wasn't one of those africanized suckers.
There isn't much for me to do on the weekend when my house is clean. Yard work is always an option but there has to be a man somewhere who can take care of that. I don't mind housework but I hate the yard work crap. I was raised in an interesting yet fucked up era. I was the last of the generation of women who took home ec classes without the boys. We were raised to be housewives and then when we got old enough, we were told that we needed to have a career to be completely self actualized. My father actually told me that he wasn't sending me to college because he had three boys to put through school and I would just end up pregnant and it would have been a waste of money. Then, I tried to go into the Army and he said...and I quote..."If I thought that a daughter of mine had nothing better to do with her life than go into the Army, I would be highly disappointed."
Ain't that a bitch? And I was just stupid enough to listen to him. After all that, I did get married and pregnant...three times. But I went to school anyway, on my own with three kids. Sometimes I wonder how I accomplished so much and what happened to the chick who did all of that.
OK, I have to primp a bit, if my friend does come over it will be the first person to see me in a while so I shouldn't be sitting around in my jammies.
Ciao,
Meg
posted by Meg Kelso | 1:27 PM
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