Monthly Archives: November 2018
Skunked again…
After going off on a tirade this morning when I discovered the garbage bag I put out the night before was torn and scattered, and not picked up by the garbage men, the torrents of cussing hit the ground running.
I’d spent over a week dealing with him having bad days where he couldn’t walk and demanded I pick him up each time he was down, injuring my back that had just become almost pain free for a change.
He was NOT having a bad day…He was walking and functioning.
However, at the time I launched into my tirade he was sitting in his man-doing-nothing-but-watching-TV chair. Watching me get the dog fed and out, fixing him something to eat, and not yet having a cup of coffee in me. Thus, when looking out the front door and seeing the garbage torn up, I went into super bitch mode.
The Curmudgeon took it to heart when I ranted about having to do everything around here with NO help for even the small things as I pulled on my coat, grabbed a new garbage bag, and my work gloves.
He sat down at the kitchen table and put a week’s worth of his pills together. I listened to him cuss and complain about what a pain in the ass doing it was…
Yeah, I know and you leave it for me to do all the time.
At this point, he’s still on my shit list (my back hurts like hell), along with the culprit who ripped up my garbage bag.
Betting this was the culprit again
I can’t think anymore…
A few days ago G and I left for one hour and 20 minutes to go to CVS and Target, when we got home The Curmudgeon was on the floor yelling that he’d been there for hours. He was not.
For the next several days I was constantly running up and down the stairs to help him go from bathroom to bedroom and/or get him up from the floor in the bedroom and back in bed.
So far he has managed to make me pull every muscle in my back, chest, shoulders and neck.
He has still not bothered to help me fill out HIS forms for aid. I cannot do it without his help since some of the information only he has.
It’s making me crazy.
I no longer have a group of friends. I have one.
I am both a gregarious person and a homebody…if that makes sense.
I have no social life. He refuses to go anywhere. We no longer go out or have any friends to go out with.
I NEED! CRAVE! WANT! a face to face social interaction with people who have actually read a book, like a glass of wine or a good vodka martini, and enjoy a lovely meal out.
I can’t think. I can’t write. I can’t sleep for more than a couple hours at a time.
Today Momma bought me a new sweater.
She couldn’t find my hoodie even though she tore the house apart several times. So when she and Auntie G went to the pharmacy they decided they weren’t ready to go home yet and went to Target.
She found my new sweater there. She and Auntie G joked with the cashier about how Momma would probably find my hoodie after she got home.
That’s exactly what happened!
She put the new sweater on me to go out, and when we came back in, she looked in a spot she’d checked a dozen times…and there it was! So now I have my hoodie for freezing cold days and my sweater for cold days.
Guns and mental illness…
Guns and mental illness are not a good mix.
Back when I was in High School my sister Kay committed suicide. Not with a gun, but I believe the only reason for that was …
My baby sister, Mary and I were arguing about using the phone (yeah, back then we only had a land line) I was just reaching for the phone when it rang. The call was for Kay. Not real happy because I wanted to use the phone I hollered downstairs that the phone was for her.
She came roaring up the basement steps and grabbed the phone from my hand. After less than a minute she headed back down to her basement room. Now this was an old house and every door had a key in the lock, when she slammed the door, the key fell out. My grandmother went to put it back in the lock. Kay came up the stairs at a dead run, slammed the door open, and grabbed my grandmother by the throat.
I was out of the room on the phone. I heard Mary screaming. I ran to the kitchen to find Kay choking my grandmother. I told her, “Let go of her or by God I’ll kill you.” I meant it. I meant every word. A picture of me picking her up and tossing her down the stairs flashed through my head. I guess she saw it in my eyes because she let go and ran back downstairs. I hollered after her to pack up and get out before my parents got home from work.
A few minutes later, she came back up and left.
When my parents got home, I explained the situation and my grandmother backed me up. By that time my boyfriend (The Curmudgeon) was at the house. My father asked us to go through my sister’s things and locate and flush all her pills. (She had an addiction to Seconal.)
While searching her room, The Curmudgeon found a locked metal box and being a nosy person he picked the lock. I was going through her dresser when I heard the box clatter to the floor behind me. Turning around I saw him sitting on her bed, pale and shaking. I’d never seen him like that before. It scared me.
When I asked him what was wrong, he pointed to a gun next to him on the bed. He practically sobbed when he said, “she could’ve come up shooting and taken you all out.”
We never told my parents. The gun is gone.
My sister NEVER should have had a gun in her possession. She had a record of mental illness and suicide attempts–one where she shot herself. Had a proper background check been done…well, you know she wouldn’t have had either gun.
Last year, handguns killed
10 people in Japan
50 in Great Britain
47 in Switzerland
611 in Canada
105 in Israel
41 in Sweden
38,658 in the United states
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com
Pizza bones!
I have to laugh about what happens every time we have a pizza delivered.
Lucy normally is very quiet when people come to the door. However, when a pizza delivery person shows up you can hear her a mile away barking her silly head off with excitement.
You’d think we buy pizzas just for her. (She only gets a few pieces of crust spread over several trips outside and maybe even days.)
The pizza delivery guy had quite a chuckle over her rambunctious and deafening welcome.
PJ revolt
Lately, I have had to force myself to go get dressed in the mornings.
I want to remain in my PJs all the time. I don’t want to get dressed.
Getting dressed means I might have to go somewhere, do something, even socialize with people.
I’m thinking of starting a movement, a PJ revolt for those of us who have too much weight on our shoulders. Those of us who feel as if we’re teetering on the edge.
I want to lock the doors, put on my PJs, and crawl into bed 24/7.
I’m so done.
PJs forever!
A better idea.
Instead of having troops sit at our southern border missing Thanksgiving with their families, if they must be deployed somewhere send them to help fire victims in California.
At least with them there, the human American public wouldn’t be so angry about the $$ spent.
Of course we all know that won’t be happen since #45 holds a grudge against California.
She’s going to melt?
So, it’s raining again.
Lucy has gone out twice tonight and refused to go out in it more than twice that. She thinks she’s made of sugar and will melt.
I have to admit she is very sweet but sugar? Nope.
At least she doesn’t mind the toweling off of the rain. In fact, that’s the part she loves.
Medicare bound…
In March I turn 65. I got a notice in the mail from The Curmudgeon’s PEBTF about what I need to do.
It’s amazing how confusing they can make instructions. I’m an intelligent woman and I had difficulty with them. I can’t imagine how rough it is for someone without much of an education.
We decided to call the SS administration to see if someone could make sense of the three pages of instructions, that the more you read, the less they made sense.
So glad we did. I was started on the process and even have an appointment with the local SS office in January all set up.
Lovely day
Yesterday we went to vote in the pouring rain.
I dropped The Curmudgeon and G at the door of our polling place and drove across the street to park in a shopping center parking lot. There is no parking provided at the polling place.
Walking back to vote, my feet got soaked with the high water run off in the parking lot and the street.
Much later, in the early evening, we got a lovely show.
This one you can barely see the double rainbow to the right.
Doggonedmysteries 