For the 3 or possibly 4 people who read me, I have one word to say. And that word is: Eldercare. It sucks at your soul. It makes you realize that yes, payback truly is a bitch. But, the Ancient One has another new hip, is out of hip rehab and home. MD appts. are at an all time low - next one in a week and a half. I need a freaking vacation. Alone. Or with a massage therapist and a bartender.
Spring is almost sprung. My daffodils are emerging. My job is almost at an end - another three weeks; then I am free from the bonds of a time clock for 5 months. It's so nice to know that. I like ramen noodles. Which is a good thing, cause round about September the coffers are low.
Latest infatuation: The Tudors. Who knew Henry VIII could be sexy and not the gout riddled, obese, nasty specimen I learned about in history class. And me being me, and not wanting to seem like I really like the bodice tearing, forest shagging, heretic burning, deceit laden court on the small screen; I took Six Wives out of the library. Readable history. Of course since I don't have TV, I have to wait for season two to come out on DVD like 9 months from now. Beheadings for the holidays. Who could ask for anything more?
And finally. Obama. When I voted in our primary and he took VT I was so incredibly happy to have been a part of history.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
So a couple of weeks ago when we had the "warm snap", around 5am I woke due to a skittering noise. Mouse thinks I. But it sounds just a little different. The S.O heard it too, so we turn on the light. Over on the other side of the bedroom is something on the floor. Kinda hoppy. Not so mousy. But the S.O insists it is. My ass, I think, it's a freaking bat. Now don't get me wrong. I like bats. Bats are important. I like them outside. Where they belong. So, I get up to move around the bed, and it's gone. So I go downstairs, get the stove stirred up and The Minion comes downstairs. I told him what we saw in the bedroom - just so he'd be prepared. He heads into the kitchen and comes trotting back over, flies onto the couch and asks "What's that on the floor over there?!?!". Well, animal control at 6am is not part of my morning plan. Coffee, cigarette, shower. That's the plan. Not this. So over in the heap-o-shit that is the recycling pile, on the floor, crawling into the recycling is Mr. Bat. So I grab the broom and a gallon sized pickle jar ( empty from the pile ) and trap the poor little bugger . Meanwhile The Minion has high-tailed it back upstairs. The S.O is snoring away. And I am afraid to lift up the broom to try and sweep him into the jar. I have not had coffee. I have not had nicotine. I am alone with Mr. Bat, who I probably brought into the house tucked under the bark of a chunk for the stove. Deciding I can't stand there forever and hoping he is stunned, I sweep him into the jar and stick him outside hoping the 20 degree temp will slow him down. It does and I take his fuzzy little ass for a walk up into the field and leave him in a shed. So then the next week this article appears in the weekly paper. I hope our bats aren't sick too. I like the lack of mosquitoes in the summer.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
It's been a month since I posted anything! It's been a busy one with work, home and the Ancient One getting her 2nd new hip in the span of a year. It's been snowy and blowy - I am more than ready for mud season. So the old lady is in rehab; doing her exercises and I am juggling it all. I'm used to it by now, but the need to run far, far away is strong.