I cannot be on a diet. I mean that word is crippling to me. Something clicks in my head and the diet is over before it begins. Some say that I need to get my head in a “change of lifestyle” place. Yeah, that’s probably not going to work either so today I ventured to thesaurus.com to see what I could come up with. First I tried another word for journey, nothing jumped out at me, then I tried another word for hunt, as in I’m hunting for a body that doesn’t billow over the top of my pants, the only one funny there is “frisking” which I would adopt but my body is in no current shaped to be frisked either. I finally typed in the word diet and low and behold I found it. Starvation. I find that hilarious. If I call it starvation I will be thankful for everything I get to eat, no matter how small or simple.
Day 4: My head is in a better place today, I’ve done my exercises and I’ve only eaten breakfast and lunch, nothing massive in between. I’m going to fix a shake for dinner before I leave for a 10 hour bartending shift. It will take me 2 days to recover from that shift but at this time it’s my only job so I don’t have a choice.
Yesterday my friend who complains about weight with me was put in a hospital for some heart issues, which are ongoing with her. She’s been sending me texts that’s she’s starving and no one cares. This is a bit of our conversation:
Her: I AM STARVING!! Does no one care!?
Me: We committed you secretly and this is your weight loss program.
Her: I just peed my inderweR. Can’t text laughing too hard.
It’s important to be supportive to our friends. I do what I can.
I also lied, I did not have a shake for dinner, I skipped dinner and went to work and had leftover hotdish when I got home at 2:00 AM. This is not on the starvation plan.
Day 5: The 13 year old is here for the weekend and she eats like a small village. It’s hard for me not to want to eat like her. I hate her because she doesn’t gain an ounce. It’s fine though, she’s 13, I won’t hold it against her, yet.
Day 6: I hate life, this starvation thing is going but not going. Pounds are not melting off…at least it doesn’t seem like it. I have developed an allergy to the scale. There’s a force field around it that zaps me every time I get close.
Day 7: I realized today that I will have no idea if I’m losing weight. I was hoping my clothes would start fitting me better….they haven’t…and they won’t. Why won’t they, you ask? Because our washer is on the fritz and it only works on “hot”. This is a chubby girl’s worst nightmare! The only good thing is that the clothes will continue to shrink so perhaps I won’t have to buy a new wardrobe for a long time. The bad thing is that everything of mine is like putting Barbie clothes on a Cabbage Patch Doll. It’s a delicate situation and I do a lot of praying that the seams will hold up. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
Week 2: The start of the second week hasn’t been too bad, I’ve been preoccupied with some personal things so haven’t been thinking about my starvation. Now that I’m writing about it though I’m thinking about it and I’m hungry.
I have eaten us out of house and home at this point. I don’t trust myself to go to the grocery store alone so I haven’t picked up anything. In the process it seems I’m also starving the skinny guy that lives with me. I best go shopping tomorrow. I’m so desperate for food I’m living off of freeze pops at the moment.
Another night bartending tonight….hopefully I don’t faint from the lack of nutrition and if I do that someone kicks me out of the way of the patrons.
I’ll see you next week with either less pounds or perhaps a washing machine that actually works on cold water wash.
Ok kids, I need to do something about my weight. I mean, I NEED to do something. We are at Defcon 1 here. My ankles are bad, my knees are bad, I have a bad hip and a bad back. My waddle has a waddle people. I’ve been talking about this for way too long. Last month a girlfriend and I decided that we would start with 5 pounds, lose 5 pounds before the end of February and we would go from there. Well, I have 8 pounds to go to reach that goal and it’s the middle of March.
I’ve been heavy since I was done with college. Although the weight doesn’t come on overnight, it seems as though it does. Maybe that’s the thing about finally deciding to lose weight, you look in the mirror one day and think “when in the hell did this happen”. If I was still in good health I probably wouldn’t care much about losing weight. I mean, I have to have something to make fun of myself about. But I am currently truly miserable, I have such a bad hip that I cannot function in a normal capacity, the pain is unbearable sometimes.
I’ve been saying for a year that I need to get back to writing because it’s therapeutic for me. Perhaps this will get me back into writing and keep me accountable. Hopefully. I think at this point I’m willing to do just about anything.
The starting is the hard part so here’s to starting. My plan is to cut down on my portions, do hip exercises at least twice a day and cut down on carbs. In general, eat better, swap a shake for meal/snack, stop eating Top the Tator (ok, I can’t quit TTT cold turkey but I will try) and get my hip feeling better. I would love to walk or exercise in some other way but at this point I just can’t, I can’t even walk to the mailbox without being in tears.
Day 1: I’m starving. It’s day one and I’m going to starve to death! I just ate a bowl of Mini Wheats and I would like to raid the fridge and freezer. The second I think I’m on a diet I’m doomed. I need to get my head in a different place. I need to focus on how bad my hip hurts and use it to my advantage. I’ve also got to focus on the dent my pants leave on my stomach because they’re getting awfully tight. My muffin top is more like a mountain top and it’s really starting to irritate me.
Hip exercise are going well, I lay on the floor with my knees bent and squeeze my butt cheeks together. I do this for 5 seconds 30 times. It’s harder than you think when you’re as big around as you are tall. They tell you to use your core, hahahaha, my core ran for the hills years ago and hasn’t been seen since. When I get better I can start lifting my butt off the floor, that will probably happen around January of 2020 but I will be patient. That should be the year I’m ready for swimsuit season.
Day 2: Once again had a bowl of cereal, then went to town to run some errands. Stopped at the bar I work at with free drink tickets. I don’t think I have to be specific about what happened next. The day went to hell in a handbasket and I was behind the wheel. The only good thing diet-wise was I didn’t eat the rest of the day. The bad thing is I now have to work on my drinking apparently and I didn’t do my hip exercises. Let’s add that to my pile of vices. That doesn’t happen often so it shouldn’t be hard for me to give up.
Day 3: Hotdish leftovers for breakfast!! Really? I’ve also realized I’m very much a bored eater. Being at home right now has proven that ten times over. I’m on a Criminal Minds watching binge and it would be very easy for me to binge on food as well, that’s very difficult to control. I need to get to a point where I’m project oriented so I can get some things accomplished here before I go back to work. I think I could also kill someone and get away with it, I need to stop watching this stuff….well, after 4 more seasons anyway.
Hip exercises are going okay but they hurt like the dickens. I feel like a jackpot doing them but it’s just me and the dogs so no need for me to be embarrassed. They come and snuggle with me while I’m laying on the floor.
Until next time. Let’s hope I don’t starve to death or go on an eating rampage and wake up in a pile of ice cream, pizza and Top the Tator.
I’ve really been trying to be a good boy since my great escape but there’s so much I want to learn about and it seems to get me in trouble. This house of mine is so full of smells, small objects, corners, windows and gadgets I just can’t seem to stop myself from getting into “mischief” as Mom and Dad call it.
I have some new nicknames, Mom calls me Menace, Dad calls me Shithead, Mom and Dad both call me Naughtyboy a lot. I know Naughtyboy isn’t good because Mom is usually shaking her finger at me or it’s followed by a swat on the butt. Not a fun swat either, sometimes it stings a little so I know I’ve done something bad. It seems it happens when I’m in the middle of chewing on something, apparently something I shouldn’t be chewing on.
We’ve been doing lots of fun things too. Sundays we go to the bar where I get to see lots of people! I have a few girlfriends at the bars that we visit. They kiss me a lot and rub my belly. If I shiver they hug me super tight and whisper what a good boy I am in my ear. Most of the time I shiver when I’m not even cold, I like to be snuggled tight. Don’t tell them that though. I also like the car rides, Mom says I’m just like her and sleep in the car, her and I have lots of naps while Dad drives. He says he doesn’t trust Mom’s driving so he’s losing out on nap time.
I try to help around the house. I supervise when Dad loads the dishwasher and I ride the mop when they’re scrubbing floors. I also take laundry out of the basket for them. Dad and I work in the garage a lot so I need to supervise out there too. Most of the time they yell “you’re not helping” but that doesn’t make any sense to me, of course I’m helping.
Dad also has been introducing me to new things. One of those being a ride on a 4 wheeler and a lawn mower. I don’t mind it but I would rather be running around the yard exploring on my own.
We also visited Mom’s family far away a couple of times. Once when I was really little and I met a baby, he smelled good and was just my size so we snuggled. He kicked a lot though so I eventually had to move away from him, he wasn’t a good napper. They have a big dog that I like to play with but he doesn’t want to play and sometimes growls at me. His name is Rugby and he’s kind of a grumpy old man but I like him anyway. I think he secretly likes me but just likes to be grumpy because it’s his house, plus, I peed on the couch once.
Let’s get back to the real reason for my story. I got out of the kennel again. This time it wasn’t latched all the way after I was let out when Mom and Dad were at work. I was in the bedroom and I really really tried to just lay there and not explore. Needless to say, that didn’t work.
At first I was just looking around, you know, seeing what was under the bed, in the closet and in the bathroom. Then I smelled the garbage in the bathroom and I just needed to dig. Well, I found lots of stuff in there, Dad’s snuff pouches, Q-tips, an empty box with plastic on it and a bunch of Mom’s hair. I emptied the whole thing on the floor and ate a majority of it until I felt a little sick. I laid down for a while wondering if it would go away and of course it didn’t, it got worse.
My tummy was hurting pretty bad and I started to panic, and I mean really panic. I didn’t want to poop on the floor but I had no choice. I think it was those snuff pouches of Dad’s, I’m not sure how he puts those things in his mouth. I started scratching at the door hoping that Mom and Dad were really home and would hear me. I gave up after I had scratched the carpet down to the wood floor and finally pooped on the bathroom floor, A LOT. Boy was I sick.
Once I pooped I felt a little better and laid on the big bed until Mom and Dad got home. Mom and Dad were not happy when they opened the bedroom door. Not only was I not in my kennel but the room smelled pretty bad. And then they saw the carpet….or lack thereof. Holy mackerel did they say some very bad words, ones I have never even heard before. Mom was moving pretty fast too, she chased me all the way out the door and was threatening military school, the glue factory and the pound. I have no idea what those things are but none of them sounded good.
As usual they forgave me. The next day I was laying on the big bed with Mom and threw up on the blanket. Apparently the sock I had swallowed the night before didn’t digest. Mom was mad and then thankful, something about intestines and surgery….sometimes she makes no sense to me but I love her anyway.
I think it’s safe to say I will never ever escape from the kennel again. Within two days I had a new kennel and I see no way of escaping from that one. It’s okay though, my new one has a lot of room and I can see everything much better because it’s all open.
I tell ya, being a dog may be the greatest thing ever. You humans have no idea, you should all hope to come back as a dog in your next life.
When I first came to live in the big house Dad gave me a stuffed puppy to sleep with in my kennel. I do like my kennel, it’s safe and quiet and I can stretch out. I also liked my new stuffed puppy, she was cute and I got to snuggle with her all night. When Mom said “night night time” I knew it was time to snuggle up with my honey and get a good nights sleep. When I’m good and get up to go potty when I have to, Mom and Dad let me sleep in the big bed until they get up for the day. I really like the big bed, it will be mine one day. I get to sleep between them and I have to touch them both so I know they’re still there. They complain that I take up too much space but I’m not sure how that can be, I’m just little.
A couple of weeks after I started sleeping with my stuffed dog I really started to take a liking to her, she made me feel things, things down deep in my loins, things I hadn’t felt before. When these feelings came on I went with them, figured wrestling was a good exercise program. I started taking her out of the kennel because I was running out of room to wrestle with her inside the kennel. Mom wasn’t happy and said I was growing up too fast and she would tell me to “stop humping”. Dad just laughed and said “he’s a boy what do you expect”. Well our wrestling matches would get pretty intense, I would even let her be on top most of the time, she seemed to like that a lot. When we would take a break I would snuggle and lick her up and down. It was awesome, we were in love.
One night when Mom and Dad were at work, my human sister and her boyfriend came and let me out, played with me for a bit and put me back in my kennel. Well, I was awake and feeling some of those loin feelings I told you about so I decided on a quick wrestling match with my honey. Things got a little heated and I have to admit I got a bit out of control. I was backed up against the door for leverage, giving her everything I had when the door to my kennel suddenly popped open.
Sweet mother of all dogs in heaven! There I was, stunned, staring over my shoulder out the door with my stuffed dog between my legs. Looking at her, looking back at the door, looking at her. I had to put a time out on our session to figure out what to do about this glorious situation. Through the open door there was a light beckoning me to step toward it. So I did.
Cautiously at first I ventured out of my safe haven to explore the empty house. First I found food and water, I ate like I hadn’t seen food in weeks. Then I saw the light that had beckoned me, it was coming from the microwave. I then wandered and found the bedroom and bathroom doors closed. So I didn’t have access to the whole house but close enough!
Once I realized there was really no one home and this wasn’t a joke, I went kind of crazy. Racing around, jumping on furniture and rolling around on every surface possible. It was like I was experiencing life for the first time. If I would have had any friends at the time, I would have invited them over, it was awesome.
Then I realized I had eaten a lot and had to go potty. I couldn’t get outside so I figured I would just have to pick a place. I picked next to the jukebox, it was far enough away from the kennel that I didn’t have to look at it or smell it. It was a big pile, I didn’t realize I had to go that bad. It finally dawned on me I didn’t have to worry about getting spanked for pooping in the house because THERE WAS NO ONE HOME!
I also realized the mudroom was open and there was a room full of my favorite toys….SHOES. I picked one of Mom’s and one of Dad’s, even though I was having the time of my life, I did miss them terribly and couldn’t wait to tell them about my adventures. Once I had my fill of shoes I had to go potty again so I picked a different spot. This time the dining room.
After the second poop I ate and ate and ate. This is where things get fuzzy. I must have been on some sort of food high, or perhaps somebody slipped something into my food. Because from what I remember I went crazy. I chewed what I could off of the remote they use to play Jeopardy (I hate that game), I found some of Mom’s hair ties and ate those (Mom had to tell me this one), I peed a couple times (I don’t even remember where), I was so thirsty and didn’t have any water in my bowl so I found a plastic glass on the end table and licked what little was left in that and then chewed it up, I pooped again in the living room and I attempted to eat another tennis shoe but was just drooling by that time. There were more things like blankets and such but I honestly was almost in a coma at that point.
After all that partying I WAS NOT feeling well. I realize now I shouldn’t have eaten all that stuff because my tummy was in a bad spot. And by bad spot I mean a really bad spot. I tried my hardest to get out the door to go outside because I knew what was coming was not going to be pretty. I mean, I had over four hours of hard partying.
While I was clawing at the outside door it happened. There were sounds coming from my backside I had never heard before and stuff was shooting out of me all over the rug. I was scared and in pain. All I could do was hunch over and hope for the best. There was no best, it was the worst. I couldn’t even stand it myself.
Once all that was done I was exhausted and hoping Mom and Dad would be home soon, I missed them and I needed my tummy rubbed. I slept on the carpet outside the mudroom so I could see them right when they walked in and tell them what had happened, I was feeling really bad about the messes I made, plus the house smelled terrible.
I have no idea how long I had been sleeping but I heard them drive in. I figured out I better sit up and look as cute as possible. They’re pretty smart because they knew immediately something wasn’t right, probably seeing me out of the kennel was the first clue. I barked and wagged my tail to greet them but at first it wasn’t enough.
For the first 20 minutes they were home there was a lot of “Oh my gods”, “That smells so bads”, “Are you kidding mes?” and “How on earth could that little thing produce thats”. I also heard some gagging sounds, some terrible curse words I won’t share with you and a couple of threats that they were going to give me away. I knew that wasn’t true because this was really my house now and I am way too cute.
After the messes were cleaned up and Mom and Dad had a couple of drinks they sat down and gave me a pretty stern talking to. I didn’t listen much because it was a lot of don’t do this, don’t do that, blah blah blah. Like I don’t know not to poop on the carpet, sometimes it has to happen though. Once the lectures were done I put my head on Mom’s lap, licked Dad’s hand, and gave them the most apologizing eyes I possibly could.
I didn’t get to sleep in the big bed that night but I still got to snuggle with my stuffed girlfriend. We had a quiet wrestling match to finish out the night, it was glorious. It was one of our last times together, not long after that I ate her eyes out and Mom and Dad sent her away.
Until next time.
Whew, it’s about time. These humans that call themselves “Mom” and “Dad” (even I know they can’t really be my mom and dad, I’m much cuter than they are and they walk silly, they don’t even use their front paws and legs to walk) said when I turned 6 months old I could start writing. Here I am with my new series It’s a Doc’s Life.
Needless to say my name is Doc, I’m a 6 month old American Staffordshire Terrier. More commonly known as a pitbull. And apparently that’s not cool. Somehow, somewhere, “pitbull” became an awful thing because mean people exist and trained my ancestors to be mean. I think Chihuahuas are mean, there, I said it, I put that out there. Mom speaks her mind so I will too. Don’t blame me for what my ancestors, who I have never met, did. And please stop shoving your fist in my mouth when you first meet me, yes I will bite you. I don’t see humans doing that to other humans so don’t do it to me. I once heard my human mom say she would bite someone if they did that to her. Please do let me smell your hands though, that’s how I get to know you.
To be sappy for a moment, my life truly began when a couple of humans came to pick me up and brought me to my human mom and dad. They brought me to a big house, a big yard, a big garage and a big bed. I didn’t know a dog could have it so good. My dog mom never told me I was going to have my own place….except I have to let the humans stay with me…something about money and bills. I decided it was okay to have them around, a dog needs servants and apparently I get two. Now I know where the term “lucky dog” comes from.
I know the house is mine, I claimed it. I did it little by little so no one would notice but it only took me a few weeks to pee in every room. Not sure how I knew to do that but I did. It is now mine and I didn’t see Mom or Dad peeing on anything to reclaim it so they have resorted to being my servants.The humans got mad but I was on a mission so I had to complete it. Mom says it was my fault she had to clean the carpets. That was long overdue if you ask me.
My humans are strange, in my opinion all humans are strange, but I have some really weird ones.
The short, round, smart assy one (Mom) is mostly called Peg by other humans who come and visit. She calls me Booger, Boogs, or Doc. She only calls me Doc when I’m being naughty. I pretend not to hear her but she knows I do. That makes her really mad. I can’t help myself though, I find it terribly funny. Sometimes I even walk away from her as she calls my name. Sometimes she spanks me when I’m naughty but I love her anyway, I just can’t help it, I just love to lick those chubby cheeks……I can’t pinch them so I have to lick them.
The tall, skinny, quiet one, well, quiet until he’s mad, (Dad) is mostly called Jim by other humans. He calls me Doc, Bud and sometimes Booger. I pretend to listen to him more than mom, he pees outside while standing up, I think he has one up on me there. It’s my house but I let him think it’s his. He’s coming along nicely in his training program. I have to tread lightly with him, he’s not as quick as mom to admit that I run this show. Plus, he’s quicker than mom so I can’t away quite as easy.
Let’s get back to the weird part. They play video games, just the two of them. They watch several episodes of the same show in a row….I have to nap, I can’t watch, it’s just too boring. They play pool and listen to the jukebox, and sometimes even dance, did I mention it’s just the two of them? It’s like they’re having a party but haven’t invited anyone else. Oh well, they’re mine I guess, it would be too much work to look for new ones at this point. Plus, they really do spoil me.
Wow, that’s a lot of writing for a dog like me, I should probably get back to chewing up my rope, most toys don’t last two days around me, this one has been around for two weeks and I haven’t destroyed it yet. It is my new mission.
Here I am….I don’t like pictures but mom says I have to. Dad doesn’t get his picture taken so I’m not sure why I have to. After the Destroy the Rope Mission is over I will go after that thing mom takes my picture with, first I will pee on it to claim it as mine, then I will destroy it.
Until next time.
I’m 46 years old. I’m not a mom. I had outdoor dogs during my childhood but never a puppy or an indoor dog. So here I am, a new mom of the cutest pitbull puppy you’ve ever seen.
Meet Doc. He was born mid December 2015 and he looked like this the day we got him. I fell in love. I am now that lady. You know the one. The lady that posts pictures of her puppy on Facebook every day.
Not only did I take the plunge, with assurance from the manfriend that it would be awesome, we added another puppy two and a half months later. Her name is Kimber. We wanted to name her Kate (Doc Holliday and Big Nose Kate) but she knew her name so well we just couldn’t change it. Doc still doesn’t know his name, or at least pretends not to so she’s a step ahead of him there…or behind, depending on how you look at it.
Prior to Kimber coming to live with us Doc had a few episodes of Mommy wanting to give him away. One such episode happened one night when we came home from pool league very late. Here was my Facebook post about it:
In honor of National Puppy Day…..
Well, it was a long night at our house. The menace we call a puppy figured out how to get out of his kennel while we were at pool. You know that feeling when you walk in and something just isn’t right? Oh yeah, immediately. After Grandma let him out he had about 2 1/2 hours to have a party….if I didn’t know better, from the looks of things he invited friends.
4 piles of poop placed strategically….one in each room he had access to
2 pee spots
1 badly damaged PS3 remote – he ate all the rubber pieces off of it and chewed up the ends
1 chewed up water glass
1 completely empty bowl of food
1 ruined Nike flip flop
2 drooled in and slightly chewed up tennis shoes
Several missing hair ties
Needless to say our little party animal has not been feeling well since. I’m sure he’s having some trouble digesting the rubber, the material, the hair ties and the extra dog food.
He’s a whining puddle of mush today and it’s very confusing to be so mad and feel bad for him at the same time. As I left the house daddy was telling him ” you had the hiccups all night because you were naughty and now you have the poops and you will be spending most of the day outside”. Thank goodness I had to go to work.
He has been better about things since Kimber came along but they’re still puppies.
I still cannot believe how much I say things I never thought I would have to say. I find myself following them around and having random conversations, scolding, laughing or lecturing them. Here are a few of my repeated phrases:
- Don’t eat that.
- Stop digging in that.
- What’s in your mouth?
- Get that out of your mouth!
- Show me, open your mouth!
- Stop right there Mr.!
- I said stop!
- Well you don’t listen very good do you?
- Did you poop?
- Are you having trouble pooping?
- No wonder it hurts to poop, you shouldn’t have eaten that aluminum can?
- Go potty for mommy.
- Do you need to go potty again, it’s bedtime.
- Which one of you farted?
- Oh come on! If you would stop eating everything under the sun you wouldn’t smell like that.
- Where are you, you’re way too quiet?!!
Now that Doc is old enough I’m going to have him start writing stories from his point of view, it may be much more interesting than mine.
This shouldn’t be funny but to me it was hilarious, especially after the fact.
A few Saturdays ago, for a brief moment in time, a few people thought I had died. Here’s how that happened……
One of my best friends, who I went to college with, called me on Saturday morning asking about people from college because someone had passed away. Now, I should explain, I bartend on Friday nights until 3:00 AM so don’t get to sleep until sometime after 4:00 AM. Needless to say I’m not exactly awake on Saturday mornings so when he started rattling off names of people we went to school with 25 years ago, nothing registered. Normally I need 12 hours of sleep, food and a couple of adult beverages before I can start digging into the memory bank for 27 years ago. I finally told him to copy me on the Facebook post so I could see names and faces.
Needless to say, I couldn’t get back to sleep so I got up to putz around and then sat down to figure out who this possible college classmate was. I looked at the post and noticed he copied and pasted the original post. The post read something like this: His Name -> My Name. Today we lost yet another wonderful person much too soon. We will miss her…….” and along with the text there was a photo of two girls from the 80’s, no names, no dates, nothing. I called him to tell him I didn’t recognize anyone and did he know any maiden names, etc. While the two of us were attempting to piece something together, my text message notification went off several times and so did his.
It didn’t take long for us to realize people thought he was talking about me. The two girls could have been any teenager from the 80’s, including me.
As we were laughing about it my phone rang and I knew the person calling was making sure it wasn’t true. I answered the phone and heard the panic and then the relief in her voice. After reassuring her I was fine and making sure she was okay, I hung up to answer text messages, delete his post and do a post myself making sure everyone knew I was still around.
After all was said and done there’s a few things I learned:
- I’m humbled by the number of people who were truly concerned about my welfare.
- I’m upset at the people who DID NOT ask about my welfare. Yes, I do realize they probably missed the post all together.
- Is it the correct thing to do to call or text someone who you think is dead? What would have happened had I not answered for a few hours….because honestly the phone should have been on silent and I should have still been sleeping for at least a couple more hours. I can’t imagine the panic while waiting for the ‘dead’ person to answer the phone.
- Social media is definitely our information source, right, wrong or otherwise.
- I need a plan in place for when I finally do leave this world….I better get a list of people to notify to the man friend so he can keep it in a safe place and call them before Facebook takes over.
- Be careful how you post things!!!!
I am not deceased, I am very much alive
Oh boy has life been busy. It’s been busy for everyone, I know.
New man (not so new anymore now), another job (not a new one, another one, up to four now), new adventures, pool season and just plain life being crazy.
This is our 5th month in the new place but it seems like yesterday we packed a car hauler full of crap, hoped for help, didn’t get any, and moved 15 miles south of town. Back to country living for both of us. Our joke is we rented a two car, insulated, heated garage and a three bedroom two bathroom house came with it. Needless to say there’s way too much room for just us two but we’ve been getting creative with things.
- Our dining room table is now an extension of the mudroom/laundry room. It’s very convenient to drop the unfolded laundry on the table when switching out loads, then it stays there, for days, wanting attention it doesn’t get until we dig through it for something to wear. I’ve also noticed when we bring our clothes into the mudroom to sort and do laundry, there it sits for all to see as that’s where we come into the house, our front door is rarely used. If someone does come to the door we don’t answer it because our friends and family know better. Nothing against the Jehovah Witnesses but we’ve got that part of life handled, no muddying the waters there.
- We have more TVs than we need so we are now those people with two in the living room. The first excuse was that NASCAR and football were on at the same time and now there is no excuse, he will play PS3 on one and we watch the other. I can’t be bothered to argue, that’s one of those things that aren’t worth it. In fact, I had a discussion with him the other day about a more permanent set up for the TVs.
- We each have our own bathroom. I use the one in the master bedroom and he uses the other one. He does shower in my bathroom but will take a bath in the other one, don’t ask, I have no clue since we have a garden tub in our bathroom.
- We’re turning our second living room into a bar. Yup, jukebox, pool table and bar décor. Why not? All we do now is walk through it to go to bed. Friends think we’re crazy at first but when they think about it for a few minutes they’re pretty excited. Especially because we have two bedrooms for them to crash in if things get out of hand.
Outside of being creative with rooms we’ve set some ground rules.
- He prepares the dishes and loads the dishwasher. I cannot be bothered to wash the dishes just to wash them. He’s a complete fanatic about it so it’s his job. I empty it and clean the rest of the kitchen.
- The garage is his. Unless he needs help finding something, cleaning it or I need to do a piece of furniture. But it’s his. We’re going to stick with that.
- He dictates the lawn mowing and the frequency thereof. We have two riding lawn mowers, not because we need two but because he THINKS we need two. One is not working 100%. I guess that’s what happens when you live with a mechanic. The lawn was like a putting green, every time I came home he as on the lawnmower. From August to November he mowed it two to three times a week. Unnecessary in my book. I do have to say it looks great though……don’t tell him I said that.
- He fixes the things I break. Period. I recently sucked up a wash cloth with the vacuum cleaner hose, he was not a happy man. He looked cute all covered in dust though……don’t tell him I said that either.
- I freak myself out when I’m home alone. Lots of windows, very minimal window coverings, no neighbors close and lots of new noises for me to get used to. So I don’t spend much time there alone and he is very aware of that rule.
Life is still very funny, I just need to find time to write more. I will attempt to make it a priority since it is good therapy for me. Bottom line is things are good, I’m happy and very content. We laugh a lot, I just don’t write it down as often as I used to.
I’ve had an eye twitch since sometime in the summer of ’82. Okay, I’m exaggerating, it’s been about two months but it feels like a lifetime. I was going to start writing about it the second week and journal all the places my eye twitch came with me and what it did but that got out of hand very quickly.
There’s so many theories on why an eye twitch happens and a ton of them point to stress which would make sense since my life is one big stress ball, you know,sort of like a hair ball except I never get to cough it up. This is one of the most irritating things I’ve ever been through, imagine sitting in a meeting and suddenly your left eye starts twitching like the Energizer Bunny just got new batteries. Then it looks like I’m having some sort of seizure and the other meeting attendees are looking at me scared.
I started doing research on eye twitches, the results were interesting:
Web MD: They read me my last rights and wished me luck on my remaining days, as they do with everything else. Why is it that the first possibility with them is the worst? No matter what I look up it’s either that I have an incurable disease, I’m going to have to have a limb amputated or my family is going to be wiped out by famine. I really try not to look at Web MD anymore.
Friends: It’s stress, quit two of your jobs. Yeah, can’t do that so let’s move on.
Vision Website: They say there’s eight possible causes:
- Stress – we’ve already covered that
- Tiredness – yup, got that one covered too
- Eye Strain – you mean sitting at a computer for hours a day? Ok, that’s covered.
- Caffeine – oh sweet, back on Mountain Dew after years, got that covered
- Alcohol – lack of or too much? Got both of those covered, depending on the day
- Dry eyes – perhaps sanding in a basement without eye protection, covered here
- Nutritional imbalances – one square meal a day, that doesn’t cover it? ok, fine, got this one covered
- Allergies – which ones? winter, spring, summer or fall? covered
After reading this site I’m surprised both of my eye lids on both eyes aren’t twitching 24/7. It seems I’m just going to go on my merry way and be happy with several minutes of uncomfortable and embarrassing twitches each day and be thankful I’m not losing my eye, losing a limb, dying tomorrow or losing my family to famine.
I will take any suggestions for making it go away other than vastly changing my lifestyle.