Gee, I'm SICK today
Amazing how that happens. I decided to call in sick as this house is a frickin' trainwreck, I haven't sorted my checkbook since March (not balanced or reconciled, mind ya as that's too analytical), and there are bills to be paid, bathrooms to be cleaned, bedlinens to change, and not to mention the general clutter that always overruns us.
I need a maid. I need to be less of a slob. I need to bike less and clean more. I need fewer dogs. All of that said, none of it will ever happen. I went biking last night and this morning I went out for a run before I began the chores. Once I'm dead, then I won't care what the house looks like. But since I'm in no danger of dying unless I get run over by one of the Bubbas who flies down my road, I occasionally have to clean the damn house. OK, it would be ironic if the Bubba that hit me had a Dale Earnhardt's number on the back with little angel wings. Me and Dale, up in heaven. I'd be shaking my fist at the Bubba. Why do they all think that bicycles and pedestrians have no right to the road? Maybe they're jealous that I'm out there and they're not, but when I'm hurting to make it up the hill and sweating up a storm and there's no end in sight, there's nothing to be jealous about.
This was supposed to be about cleaning. And how much I hate it, but it's turned into a diatribe about the rednecks who populate my area and who don't know the law. Feh.
OK, today I've done laundry, sorted through piles of credit card offers, hung up some clothes, and if all goes well, I'll take the recycling in. The dryer just cut off, so I can start there.
But, no day calling in sick would be complete without a bike ride. I'm meeting Julie at LHThomson trails at 3:00 pm, so I'd better get cracking on that bathroom. Ugh. I hate cleaning.
Here's hoping your day is full of sparkley clean counters, fresh smelling toilets, neatly folded laundry, and freshly vacuumed floors. May Harriet of Ozzie and Harriet come to visit you! Or maybe Mrs. Cleaver. One of those housewives from the 50's TV shows who had clean houses and no maid.
And people who keep working when they win the lottery? NO LIFE!
I need a maid. I need to be less of a slob. I need to bike less and clean more. I need fewer dogs. All of that said, none of it will ever happen. I went biking last night and this morning I went out for a run before I began the chores. Once I'm dead, then I won't care what the house looks like. But since I'm in no danger of dying unless I get run over by one of the Bubbas who flies down my road, I occasionally have to clean the damn house. OK, it would be ironic if the Bubba that hit me had a Dale Earnhardt's number on the back with little angel wings. Me and Dale, up in heaven. I'd be shaking my fist at the Bubba. Why do they all think that bicycles and pedestrians have no right to the road? Maybe they're jealous that I'm out there and they're not, but when I'm hurting to make it up the hill and sweating up a storm and there's no end in sight, there's nothing to be jealous about.
This was supposed to be about cleaning. And how much I hate it, but it's turned into a diatribe about the rednecks who populate my area and who don't know the law. Feh.
OK, today I've done laundry, sorted through piles of credit card offers, hung up some clothes, and if all goes well, I'll take the recycling in. The dryer just cut off, so I can start there.
But, no day calling in sick would be complete without a bike ride. I'm meeting Julie at LHThomson trails at 3:00 pm, so I'd better get cracking on that bathroom. Ugh. I hate cleaning.
Here's hoping your day is full of sparkley clean counters, fresh smelling toilets, neatly folded laundry, and freshly vacuumed floors. May Harriet of Ozzie and Harriet come to visit you! Or maybe Mrs. Cleaver. One of those housewives from the 50's TV shows who had clean houses and no maid.
And people who keep working when they win the lottery? NO LIFE!