I should have cleaned house.

Honestly, what is wrong with me? I did everything BUT clean house yesterday. As long as doing dishes and laundry doesn’t count as house work. I read, had baths (yes, plural. Shut up), went to Starbucks to read – pointlessly, as it turns out* - sent frivolous emails to all and sundry, stared at inanimate objects and wondered if I should do something about them, baked for people, thought about new recipe possibilities…all of this when there was housework clearly needing to be done. So instead of a clean house to go home to, there is a house with work to be done waiting for me. Blast.

*B.F.S. was there. So despite being buried in the back corner, with people boxing me in, he saw me, climbed around/over the people, sat on the windowsill and complained about work. Until I finally had to say – and even with people being truly irritating, I am not good at doing this – that I was there to read and relax and he needed to go away and let me do that.

Overheard at A.'s Football Game

I was sitting on the stands, and there was one guy next to me, an empty seat behind me and a women sitting next to the empty spot. A third guy came over, whom she obviously knew, and sat behind me. The game starts. The game goes on and I get increasingly angry and ready to kill if necessary (yes, I do occasionally get upset), all warrior-woman and everything. They should ALL be happy I wasn't carrying weaponry. Not that I am likely to ever do so, but still...

Just at the point that I really need comic relief (A just went into the game for the first time...40 minutes into a 48 minute game), the guy behind me says he's cold, needs a jacket and he up and leaves. Instantly, guy beside me turns around and says to the woman "man, does he ever stink! What's his deal?" to which she replies.... "Well, he works with dead things, so it really isn't surprising". Beautiful. Works with dead things.

But I NEED those!

If you’re craving something you can’t have, you should replace it with something that makes you happy that you can have. That’s my belief for the day. So if you’re in the mall and you really want licorice, or chocolate, but can’t have it, get something else. Like lingerie. Because if you don’t have aqua coloured underwear, or peach, you should buy some, right? Or if, Maybe, you have seventeen tank tops, you should really buy three more and make it twenty. Doesn’t that make sense? Not that I’m trying to talk anyone out of having more tank tops than the Tanks ‘r Us warehouse (where you can get not only tank tops, but the French LeClerc and the Japanese T-90), I’m just saying twenty is a nice even number.

Freedom of Information & The Information of Freedom

I like an interesting speech. Rather than sitting and making grocery lists in my head, or writing bad poetry, I get to listen to someone that knows how to speak with interest and enthusiasm. Nice break in the day. So why, at yesterday’s lecture, in a fairly large room, do I end up sitting next to crazy lady? (I’m sure you’re thinking that she could be thinking the same thing. But I behaved perfectly, the whole time).

Every single point she agreed with she’d nod and whisper “yes, yes, yes” which made our end of the room sound like we were either a) playing with snakes or b) making a porn film. And every now and again she’d mutter “privacy, security”. And she spent a lot of her time rocking back and forth. Normally this would be ok, but the chairs were really tightly packed, and I was trying to write notes, and her constant movement made that difficult. I would have moved, but she arrived late and it was one of the last seats available. So, I left the routine nut house that is my job, went out in public and spent the afternoon next to a non work-related nut.
Go figure.

There wasn't even an earth shattering Ka-boom!

You’d think that the highlight of last week would be almost burning down the house (all that actually happened was my getting an electrical shock – which left a mark – the melting of an adapter and black scorch marks on a plug in. Oh, and an exploding necklace), but really, the best thing was a trip to the dentist.

It’s ok May-B – I won’t talk about burning flesh here, ok? It was just a cleaning session, that twice a year trip to tooth heaven. Except they had an emergency part way through and had to postpone half of the process to this Thursday. I think my dentist and my ex are in cahoots, trying to mess up my Thursday evenings. Is that possible?

Anyway….the cool dentist thing is that if I had money, amongst the many things that I could do would be instead of having a ceramic inlay to replace a lost tooth, I could have a Titanium insert. Titanium, embedded right into the jaw. Awesome! Cost? A mere $2800.00. But hey, I could eat marbles! Wouldn’t that be worth it?

Yes or no?

Something terrible has happened. Or maybe it hasn’t. And embedded in that very lack of certainty is my current madness. A friend MAY have done something awful. But maybe not, maybe I’m only imagining it, and reading between the lines. But I can’t ask, can I? I mean, if they didn’t, they’ll feel terrible that I even THOUGHT that they would do such a thing. And if they did, they’ll feel terrible that I figured it out. Or not, which would make it worse. So now I’m going to have to stare at them, to see if guilt is written all over their face. I see that saying all the time, but I’ve never actually seen something like “Guilty as sin” tattooed on a face. “F***”, yes, “Guilty” no.

Your dog's crazier than mine. Possibly.

I am, for the most part, used to my own neighbours thinking I’m crazy, but now…now I have to face the possibility that MayB’s neighbours think the same thing.

A. and I looked after her dog and her house this weekend. I myself went the extra mile and looked after her cold as well. Because snot-filled, cranky and crazy is a good way to spend a long weekend. It is, right? I mean I’d hate to think I’ wasted a whole weekend.

The only real nutbar in this story, though, is Mayb’s dog. If, when I get there, someone is home – even if it isn’t L. or MayB - she barks like crazy. If the house is empty, she is nowhere near as miffed. Sort of a “well, I guess if you’re the only one willing to be here with me I won’t bark my fool head completely off”. When someone is there, say my son, house sitting, she goes NUTS. I went on Sunday morning to take A. back to his dad’s, and the dog barked for a half a minute at nine thousand decibels, glared at me, threatened me with imminent death and then – coward that she is – went and jumped on A in bed, to let him carry out all the threats she’d made (As it happens, he wasn’t so happy at being woken up, but he neither barked nor threatened).

And walks? You know how most dogs go crazy at even the hint of a walk? Well, the best I could manage was a Walk ‘n Carry. She wouldn’t go for a walk from the house, but if I carried her (hence the sideways looks from the neighbours) to the park, she’d play around and then happily walk back. So that’s what we did – I’d carry, she’d walk.

Eating: yes, MayB’s dog has issues there, too. She’s female – human or canine, we all have eating issues. Anyway… she picks up one – ONE – piece of food from her bowl, carries it into the living room, drops it on the floor, looks at it, stares coolly at me (“think you’re going to get my piece of kibble? Never!”) then eats it. Then she goes back to her bowl and does it all over again. Can you imagine if we did this?

Hey, where’s crazy uncle Larry?
In the family room, eating a carrot slice. Aunt Maude is in the bedroom with a spoonful of soup. I think crazy grandma may be out back with a raisin.