Abundantly yours,
Credit cards suck ass. We have one and it’s always maxed out. Low limit, but always pushed to the top of that limit. My blog account is on it, and Chris only paid the minimum this month, and now my blog is suspended. Jeeeze. This is silly, because there’s certainly enough $ in the account to pay it down a couple hundred so my bloody $8.95 doesn’t get declined.
He’s all jammed up because machines are breaking down at work, exactly when they’re finally, literally solvent, having made their last building and machine payment. Both of our cars have needed work. We keep having issues with people casing our house (which makes the nights alone really fun!) and he wants to put in a video surveillance camera asap. I’m thinking a dog might be a nice addition to our family, but he’s emphatically against it.
He knows I want those chickens at the end of the month, which means supplies to build the tractors, hold the feed, and straw delivery. I still want to order some more seed, and a couple of decent hoes. Heh. He wishes. Seriously, a scuffle hoe, and a collinear hoe. Weeding with useless tools just isn’t going to cut it again this year. They didn’t cut a thing last year.
I’m trying to stay focused on the good, the positive things that are going on, which are plentiful, but I spent the day with his parents helping them dysfunctionally sort some of their voluminous shit for a yard sale--fighting over *sell it/keep it/put it on ebay even though I can’t figure out how to use my computer without somebody holding my hands.*
Not sure the adorable vintage totes Chris’ Grandma made (fabric is fabulous!), and the 1960’s full set of Sears circular knitting needles, and the foot tall stack of vintage (40’s, 50’s, 60’s, 70’s!!) knitting patterns was worth the pain of sitting here still trying to shake off the negativity I absorbed, and sneezing the gobs of dusty boogers out of my head. Lordy the dust! I itch all over and my eyes are hot pink. Sexy.
I would have rather been in the basement planting seeds, which are woefully two weeks behind now. Soil is drying out in the garden, and I may be able to get it tilled this weekend if the dry spell persists. Let it! Then my spring crops can get planted and it will still be spring. I’m too pooped and too spooked to be in the basement working alone at night. Not enjoying Chris’ new schedule. At all.
Also, it is my intention to reverse all of this angsty thinky thinking, and to get my ass on a raft and get floating in that river of abundance I keep hearing about. Life. She is good.
He’s all jammed up because machines are breaking down at work, exactly when they’re finally, literally solvent, having made their last building and machine payment. Both of our cars have needed work. We keep having issues with people casing our house (which makes the nights alone really fun!) and he wants to put in a video surveillance camera asap. I’m thinking a dog might be a nice addition to our family, but he’s emphatically against it.
He knows I want those chickens at the end of the month, which means supplies to build the tractors, hold the feed, and straw delivery. I still want to order some more seed, and a couple of decent hoes. Heh. He wishes. Seriously, a scuffle hoe, and a collinear hoe. Weeding with useless tools just isn’t going to cut it again this year. They didn’t cut a thing last year.
I’m trying to stay focused on the good, the positive things that are going on, which are plentiful, but I spent the day with his parents helping them dysfunctionally sort some of their voluminous shit for a yard sale--fighting over *sell it/keep it/put it on ebay even though I can’t figure out how to use my computer without somebody holding my hands.*
Not sure the adorable vintage totes Chris’ Grandma made (fabric is fabulous!), and the 1960’s full set of Sears circular knitting needles, and the foot tall stack of vintage (40’s, 50’s, 60’s, 70’s!!) knitting patterns was worth the pain of sitting here still trying to shake off the negativity I absorbed, and sneezing the gobs of dusty boogers out of my head. Lordy the dust! I itch all over and my eyes are hot pink. Sexy.
I would have rather been in the basement planting seeds, which are woefully two weeks behind now. Soil is drying out in the garden, and I may be able to get it tilled this weekend if the dry spell persists. Let it! Then my spring crops can get planted and it will still be spring. I’m too pooped and too spooked to be in the basement working alone at night. Not enjoying Chris’ new schedule. At all.
Also, it is my intention to reverse all of this angsty thinky thinking, and to get my ass on a raft and get floating in that river of abundance I keep hearing about. Life. She is good.