My husband has commented to my blog a total of two times –anonymously– since I gave him “permission” to read it, which was over six months AFTER I began writing. Until that time, I wrote in complete obscurity. I always wrote as if I were being read, but no one had my URL (except for Blogger bloggers who hit the scroll when I updated, clearly, an accident). I think I lurked around the blogosphere, lacking confidence to throw in my two cents anywhere, but honestly, it’s hard to remember now. The first comment I ever received was from an Irish blogger, which I thought was pretty cool. Still do.
I know he reads me and he’s tried to post a few more times, but that pesky word verification sends him back into hiding, scampering for cover. Word verifications can be vewry scawry for blogger neophytes that way. I’ve removed it a few times, but every time I do THAT, vewry scawry comments find their way to the ol’ Pensieve, so, I’d rather do without a few comments then invite spammers.
The other thing I know about my husband is he bores easily when it comes to reading. If he sees a long post, he moves along. So, you see? I’m trying to make this post long before I get to the point of it, in the hopes that he’ll stop before he finds out what I’ve been up to since he’s been gone. Conniving, aren’t I?
#1) I stay up waaaaay too late. This makes perfect sense: I’ll be so dead-dog- tired when finally snuggling under the covers, when the robbers and axe murderers break in, I’ll be house-ransacked, broke and dead before I know what hit me. Relatively painless. That is, if they get past our trained pet rottweiller, MaimMe, video surveillance, and the .45 parked by my bed. Did I mention before kids I worked as a police officer and was repeatedly recognized for my razor-sharp reflexes and shooting skill? Nothing left of the bullseye when my smokin’ pistol twirled back into its holster.
#2) I seem to blog more…writing, not reading. Must be tied to #1 somehow.
#3) I create MORE work by cleaning my house. In all things related to weather, it’s the “calm before the storm”; in all things related to my housekeeping skills–which are quite the opposite of my firearm skills–it’s the “storm before the calm”. It gets worse before it gets better. Don’t believe me? Take a look.
These are most of the bags and boxes our Christmas decorations are stored in. This is what you might call a “staging” area. In about an hour, all of this junk will be tucked away in the attic, and Tad will never know it sat here for two days. It doesn’t bother me a bit, nor the children, but the cat is getting kind of twitchy. She naps on this sofa. But don’t tell Tad. (She’s was behind the big red bag on the right when I snapped this shot.)Our upstairs is not decorated, except for Stephen’s room…he has a two-foot Christmas tree and various Christmas statues. I love this about him.
Next, this basket of laundry has sat here since Monday as well. Apparently we have enough clean underwear and towels without putting it away. That will be done after the above-mentioned boxes are in the attic. The way I see it, at least the laundry is FOLDED! At least it hasn’t sat in the dryer–or heaven forbid, the washer, cultivating a nice mildew crop!
I saved the best/worst for last–a picture of pictures. THIS is where I got bogged down. THIS little exercise sucked more time than me blogging.
Why? you ask. Because I’m looking for a specific picture, no, make that two pictures. And can’t find them. BECAUSE ALL MY PICTURES ARE IN BOXES INSTEAD OF PHOTO ALBUMS OR SCRAPBOOKS BECAUSE I WAS BORN WITHOUT THE GENE THAT COMPELS ME TO ORGANIZE THEM NEATLY, ORDERLY AND IN A MANNER WHICH NOT ONLY RECORDS HISTORY, BUT ALLOWS ME TO FIND WHAT I’M FREAKIN’ LOOKING FOR IN MINUTES, NOT HOURS…OR DAYS…OR NEVAH! I was BORN with this affliction. It most certainly is NOT my fault!
Whew! Give the girl some more COFFEE! She’s twitchier than the cat!!
I did not find the pictures; if/when I do, they will be blogged, and as you know, linked back to this post. I hope I can find them, although it’s probably “better” in my memory than it is in actuality. Whatever, it’ll make some fun stories to write. The John-Lennon-look-alike pic perhaps less so than the painted-up-hussy one.
The GOOD thing, for me, is I found some fabuloso material for future posts. In fact, I’m gonna go take care of those boxes and laundry, and possibly write some more today.
Because, tonight Tad comes home. And I’ll get back to “normal”. And not blog binge…or stay up so late…or “clean” like a tornado;) (for you, Pete)(CLARIFICATION: I am NOT cleaning for Willowtree, the reference to “cleaning like a tornado” was a nod to an earlier
rant post of his this week!!!!). I’ll stop being so self absorbed in writing and actually read some! (And for the record, I haven’t been able to post comments to Beta bloggers–not for lack of trying and then trying again–so I finally gave up reading anybody! Too durn frustrating.)
If I’m lucky, Tad glazed over after reading the first two paragraphs and he’ll never know that a train’s been through our house :).