Thursday, June 14, 2007

Disgruntled

I feel cranky.

I have a blog.

I will therefore inflict my crankiness on you.

(This is your chance to hit the 'back' button and flee. Don't say I don't give you a fair and fighting chance, dearest darlings.)

  1. Gorbag the half-orc and his Weedwhacker Of Death have caused me more grief. They've now laid low 2 black-eyed-susans and 3 very pretty foxgloves that I had been nurturing around the benches at the way-back of the yard. For weeks I have been trotting out there (about a hundred yards) with a watering can in one hand and a pail in the other, to lovingly slake their thirst. I planted them where I thought was both far enough from the benches to save them from slaughter, yet close enough to be enjoyed by any quiet bench sitter. Now, there's naught left but shreds. Gorbag has agreed that perhaps it would be best if I took over the wielding of the whacker.
  2. I love the wood floors. How I love the wood floors. How much cleaner they make the house. Why? Because I must move all the furniture every week to vacuum all the accumulated crumbs and large drifts of dog hair that scamper, oh so visibly around it's sleek surface. In addition, I have to vacuum an extra day (that's 2! days of vacuuming each week) to keep things from accumulating a visible layer of fuzz. With the grimy carpet, all this was fairly invisible. Reasonably invisible dirt bothers me not in the least. I moved the furniture once a year, whether it needed it or not. I guess like most pretty things, they are higher maintenance.
  3. Last night I had beans. This morning I have gas. My apologies to the counties down wind. (I have my windows open.)
  4. The lawnmower has been out of commission for 2 weeks now and will not be fixed for another week. 3 weeks without mowing this yard at this time of the year is not only unsightly, it is downright scary. We are not able to trod the path for our nightly constitutional as the thistles are now past ankle high. The thistles, as you may recall, populate our grounds much as crumbs populate the floor of a family car. Yes, there are other components (namely dandelions and clover and prairie grass), but the thistles are spread thickly throughout all. They also grow 4 times faster than any other green thing. We shall not mention the fact that keeping things cut keeps the ticks at bay.
  5. I managed to forget to apply sunscreen before I went out to stain the horizontal surfaces of the deck last weekend. It wasn't hot. There were plenty of clouds. I was stupid. I'm now stupidly sun burnt on my shoulders. Sadly, my bra strap seemed to have escaped the borders of my tank top, so now I have a pasty-white bra strap line (complete with visible circle from the dealie that allows the strap to adjust) streaking across my shoulder. So very classy.
  6. Somewhere, hidden in the house, my nice cup of coffee, with the right amount of cream, is well on its way to becoming stone cold.
  7. The house is not self-cleaning, although I've managed to bribe my tamagotchi-coveting son to pick-up, dust, clean the bathrooms, schlep the laundry and help fold the clothes all for $3. Guess I really can't count this, can I?
  8. While the 4 apple trees are all still alive, the 2 sweet cherry trees are either dead or close to it as to make no matter. Sorry, Dumdad.
  9. It's Swimming Lessons Day. The kids loooooove Swimming Lessons Day. I haaaaaaate swimming lessons day. For an hour and a half I get to stand and watch through the window as first one child then the other mostly holds on to the edge of the pool while waiting for their turn to not-swim back and forth or to jump off the diving board. The very best days are 'water safety day' where I get to watch them sit and listen for half the class. Yes, there are a hand full of stools to perch on, but in order to get a stool, one has to be there ahead of the other parents. Having to wrangle Sara into and then out of her suit, I am never early enough. My only hope lies in the occasional day that most of the other families are missing, for some reason. Then, THEN! I get to snag one. I have toyed with the thought of leaving and running some errand, but the huge signs that proclaim that PARENTS MUST WATCH THROUGH THE WINDOW AT ALL TIMES, prevents me from doing so in reality. Sadly, progress is slow for the Piffle kids and I've literally years more of Swimming Lesson Days to look forward to. In about a year, though, Sara will be in the next age group and should be able to take them at the same time as her brother. That will at least shorten my woe.

Well, I'll be.

Worked like a charm. I've managed to sluff off all the evil into the computer and off into the landfill that is the Internet. I will then be responsible for the crashing of multiple systems as my vitriol and whininess breeds like. Sorry about that.

Yes, indeedy. Cheaper than Prozac and without all that incarceration hassle of heading up to a bell tower with many firearms.

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17 Comments:

Blogger brooksba said...

Love the line about the bell tower. That's just awesome.

The cherry trees are kaput? That's sad. What a bummer. I was at my dad's on Monday and one of his gooseberry bushes may have bit the dust. It was sad then too.

Have you put sunscreen on the burn after? For some random reason, this sometimes helps me. You know, when I do actually brave the sun. I hope the burn fades quickly.

3:11 PM  
Blogger Cagey said...

"We are not able to trod the path for our nightly constitutional as the thistles are now past ankle high."

What? You've never mentioned your outhouse before! Puts new meaning to "disgruntled". hee!

I hear you on the sunburn - I didn't burn myself badly, but in this day and age, I loathe getting any sort of pink.

4:03 PM  
Blogger CarpeDM said...

Beth and I were at karaoke the other night and she was showing someone (It might have been John?) her scrapbook from Canada. Said someone looked at the multitude of pictures of me and said "Her bra strap is hanging out in all of these pictures." They both turn and look at me and yes, my bra strap is hanging out. To which I may have wittily replied "Eh."

I hate bras. I hate bra straps. I refuse to keep pulling the damn things up all the time. If it was up to me, I would never ever wear a bra again. Or shoes. Or, well, I guess clothing. Clothing is overrated.

Hey, if you bring Colin over to clean my room, I'll buy him the Tamagotchi. I've mentioned I hate cleaning, right? He'd have his work cut out for him but it'd be fun. Road trip, right? For about 3 years. But still, road trip.

4:14 PM  
Blogger Mother of Invention said...

It's okay, Diana ! You can whine to us. We can whine with the best of them! My sister's neighbourhood group of babes get together every 2 months for what they call the :Wine and Whine"! I can just imagine what it must sound like...especially after a few glasses!

Hope everything gets better...especially the sunburn! Ouch..I hate getting burnt. And today's teenagers and young babes let their bra straps of all colours show on purpose. Maybe you're just trying to get hep!

5:38 PM  
Blogger Voyager said...

"I've managed to bribe my tamagotchi-coveting son to pick-up, dust, clean the bathrooms, schlep the laundry and help fold the clothes all for $3."

Please, can I buy him from you? I'll even give him a 10% salary increase.
V.

6:13 PM  
Blogger Rozanne said...

Who or what is gorbag? He (it?) sounds very similar to our tulip decapitator guy. I totally feel your pain on that. In addition, to tulips, he's lopped the heads of off poppies, yarrow, and roses. Painful!

Also, so sorry to hear about the imminent demise of the cherry trees. Do not be deterred. Plant more!

7:57 PM  
Anonymous Christie said...

See? Whining is good for you, very therapeutic! And truly, some days the stars do align completely against you and you just need to vent. Lucky for us even your venting is amusing.

10:15 PM  
Blogger Coffee-Drinking Woman said...

I adore how you have christened him Gorbag... gives me a chuckle every time...

As for the thistles... pretend you're in Scotland. They are, after all, the national flower of Scotland.

11:57 PM  
Blogger Dumdad said...

Oh no, what awful news about the cherry trees. My cherry tree and all of us here on The Other Side of Paris will be praying that a miracle will occur. While there's life there's hope...

4:21 AM  
Blogger Sanjay said...

Sorry about the cherry trees. Loved the prozac line.
A tiniest..tiniest pinch of asafoetida (available at an Indian grocery store) helps with gases, when added while cooking. This works when we make beans Indian style.
Have a great weekend, I loved reading this post.

7:41 AM  
Blogger Diana said...

Beth- Isn't it sad? I was so looking forward to cherries. I've never tried the sunscreen after a burn, I'll do so should there be a next time. (It's blistering. Grrrr.)

Cagey- (You crass American) I refer, of course to the Victorian usage of 'constitutional', which meant a healthful walk taken each day. Upon thinging on it, I'm guessing that it became an euphanism for pottying as those Victorians certainly never directly referred to any bodily funcions. (How ever did their poor sons survive without constant conversations about 'poop', 'pee' and 'farts'?) Speaking of which, how is your 'confinement'?

Dana- A sister in brassieres. I loathe them. We should never have consented to wear them. As a self-conscious teen, I used to hoard teeny safety pins to secure them to my tank top straps. Now that I am old, they are allowed to escape. I galls me to be faced with the evidence all summer, though. You can't have Colin. He's my little indentured servant. Start working on Josh.

Ruth- Each week I meet with 2 close friends for lunch. As it's a Tuesday and we all have to trot off to work afterward, it's "Whine and diet pop". If we had wine, we probable wouldn't stop till midnight. Whining in measured doses is immensely thereaputic. So that's what I am? A hep cat! Who knew.

Voyager- No, no and NO! He's actually at a delicious age where his help is often helpful. We can talk when he's 15, though.

Rozanne- Gorbag, sadly, is my lawfully wedded mate. He's such a great guy, unless you give him a yard care tool, and then the blood of his father, a full orc, runs hot in his veins. His father, Orfang the Orc, was famous for cutting down innocent, lovely trees in his yard for the pleasure of running the chainsaw. Gorbag has slaughtered many, many of my beloved plants over the years, all under the guise of 'trimming'.

Christie- Terribly theraputic. The odd thing was, as I worked on this, yesterday, the computer became slower and slower. Clearly the content of the post was having a real effect on the poor thing. I finally had to boot it after I got it to publish, literally hours later. I woke this morning expecting to hear of a mysterious wide scale virus that had felled the 'net over night.

Teri- (Hush! We of the Casa del Piffle are of Irish extraction, or at least Gorbag and the small ones are. I claim it as my wedded right. Growing up, I always wanted an Irish last name.) Too bad it's not shamrocks, huh?

Dumdad- I appreciate the words of sympathy from you, yours and your lovely trees. I'm not giving up, but the eating of the cherries will be delayed at least a year.

Sanjay- My guru of gastronomy!I will look for it when next we hit the Indian grocery. I'm glad it imparts a mild onion flavor to foods as it sounds rather horrible in it's raw state. There's a glorious spicy peanut/yam/chicken soup I make that wreaks havoc on us. Also this delish onion tart that Rozanne turned us on to that causes similar distress. Mwa! Mmmmmmmwa!!!

8:35 AM  
Blogger Babs said...

Blogging is great for crankiness relief but still, I feel obliged to once again remind you to NEVER underestimate the joy of throwing plates, too.

6:25 AM  
Blogger Diana said...

Babs- Yes, hurtling things is very good balm for the soul. I draw the line at punching things harder than a pillow, though. Too hard on the hands.

8:41 AM  
Blogger Jocelyn said...

We live the same life. It's frightening me.

For that lawn mower thing?

Get a goat. One that detests Black-Eyed Susan and foxglove, of course.

1:45 AM  
Blogger Diana said...

Jocelyn- If you are living my life, I am frightened for you, too. (Actually, I'm thinking sheep. You can then use the wool for...I dunno...exchanging for eggs? We could train Molly to actually live up to her breed and shepherd them. Hmmmm... Actually not such a bad idea, now is it? Plus, they would freak out the cat.

9:01 AM  
Blogger Lauren said...

Hope the crankiness is gone. We begin our swimming lesson days today. My problem lies in the fact that on days that are scorching hot I need to stand (outside) and watch her swim and I can't even dip a toe. Something is just wrong with that.

9:27 AM  
Blogger Jamie said...

"Somewhere, hidden in the house, my nice cup of coffee, with the right amount of cream, is well on its way to becoming stone cold."

I laughed out loud at this. I'm so sorry. I couldn't help it--it happens to me all the time.

12:58 PM  

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