48 hours in the Panic Room
- I finally spent a couple of nights at the house in town.
- We’re still playing “what’s that smell?” It moves. It changes. It gets in ya.
- Worked so hard that I can barely move now that I’m back at the lake.
- Escaping to use Pup’s shower was wonderful but I need to take my own soap next time. How can he have at least 8 kinds of shampoo but no soap? He doesn’t even have much hair. He also doesn’t line trash cans or buy paper towels. That’s what happens when you let Father raise the kids.
- Even though one neighbor has hit Hubbin up 3 times about a new fence, not one person has said Hello, waved, or nodded in my direction the whole time I’ve stayed there. A midlife woman counts for nothing. It crosses no one’s mind that I could be the person to answer their questions?
- Adding a new internet connection created password chaos. Where are all the new passwords? Sitting on “desk” in my old office in town. This morning I had to reconfigure 3 machines. I’m NOT driving back to town today.
- The Oracle tells me I need to have a talk with the Pup about how many wonderful things I have accomplished in life by working my butt off. Weird intro but the point is Pup is contemplating a life partner that hasn’t been able to keep a job more than a few days in over a year, who demands trips to vegas and concerts (he’s the chauffer but doesn’t usually attend) and hasn’t resolved her physical issues so no visible means of support – not even disability- but wants a ring. That’s a prickly subject but the Oracle thinks it should start with a dinner celebrating me as a rock star of family support. I appreciate the compliment but might need another good night’s sleep and some Aleve before I take that on.
- The prehistoric toilet in the laundry room is the only functional plumbing in the place. The other day I rammed the top of my head into a pencil sharpener that has probably been there since the 1960s. I’m not sure why you need a pencil sharpener next to the toilet. Climbed so many stairs and up and down the step ladder cleaning walls until my hip tried to give out. Had to go buy a grab bar for that mockery of a bathroom. After trimming the grapes I planted in 1990 so I could get two broken trellis’ removed from the tangle and stomping around the yard at dusk growling “Hulk Smash!” at everything that offended me (at one point bleeding profusely from a cut on the back of my hand because anemia makes unnecessary drama out of simple tasks) I could not get upright the next morning. I do not want to be found “trapped” in the grubby wash porch.
The other day I rammed the top of my head into a pencil sharpener that has probably been there since the 1960s. I’m not sure why you need a pencil sharpener next to the toilet.
Ooh, are you ok?? IDK, to itch your crack with a freshly sharpened pencil?? (Yes I have piles… )
@sambucathedestroyer not sure that wouldn’t make matters worse. At least I have a hard head.
@tunguska Ha. 😛
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Okay, you actually made me spit out my iced coffee with laughter. You are hilarious. And I think the Oracle needs to talk to the Pup about dysfunctional people.
*wish I had an Oracle*
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